


Surrogate Partner

by MadManta



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Discussion of Sexual Trauma, Hand Jobs, Impotence, M/M, Rimming, Sex Worker Trauma, Therapy, Unhappy Past, sexual surrogacy, touch starved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:06:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29251920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadManta/pseuds/MadManta
Summary: Reno, a shady government official, is in danger of losing his job if he doesn't deal with his issues: He can't stand to be touched. He can't even touch himself. He's seeing a therapist, but she just seems to dredge up his unhappy past. She offers him the business card of a colleague, a sexual surrogate, to help get him reacquainted with intimacy.
Relationships: Reno/Rude (Compilation of FFVII)
Comments: 37
Kudos: 91





	1. Oh No

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warning for discussing of an unpleasant past of survival sex work. Otherwise, it's soft. I promise.
> 
> This is just a basic modern AU; no Turks, no Shinra, no magic. Just a guy who can't get it up, getting some help to get a boner. No, you cannot actually become a licensed sex surrogate. That's why it's also just... a modern AU. With some rules bent.
> 
> Huge, huge thank you to LemonDropLan for being there to help with ideas and instill confidence in this story!!

Reno squirms in the seat. He’s been in this seat many times over the past few months, and it never gets any easier. It’s not necessarily that this therapy is work mandated, or that his stoic boss knows he’s here, or even that he’s seeing a specialized sex therapist. It’s that he’s been sitting in this chair, once a week for an hour for three months, and nothing has improved. Nothing has made a difference. Sometimes, he wonders if he’s getting worse.

Last night, at the bar with his colleagues, a man had placed his hand on Reno’s thigh as an opening move — rather than, you know, “saying hello and introducing himself” — and Reno had nearly broken the guy’s arm.

Reno doesn’t like to be touched. He doesn’t even like to touch himself. And the more he talks about it, the more self conscious he is about how fucked up his teenage years on the streets made him.

His therapist isn’t cold, but she struggles to get to the root of Reno’s issues. He doesn’t like to talk about them. He’s brought it up once or twice: what he did, for how long, what kind of clientele, how much he charged, what kinds of drugs he’d take to get through some nights. But after volunteering up one piece of information, he’d close up. Always something new, and never the ability to genuinely talk about it. The therapist knows he’s struggling; she’s mostly good at hiding the pity, but Reno can sense it. She’s touched his shoulder and he flinched more than was warranted.

And the latest infraction at the bar was putting Reno in a very compromising position at work.

“I know that we can make more progress, Reno,” the therapist is saying, and Reno’s trying to pay attention as he picks at his nails. “But there is something that might help you more than I can, in cases as…understandably difficult as yours is.”

Reno looks up, trying not to look indignant. “What, you callin’ me busted?” he sneers, since the self deprecation is one of the few ways he keeps himself afloat.

“You have trauma that we can work through, but I don’t think that that alone will help you with your physical responses. I have a colleague that is more capable of helping you work through the issues you’re having regarding touch.” Reno’s eyebrow jumps up. “You’d still be seeing me once a week,” she continues, “but you’d be adding this additional appointment in. Separate from me.”

“What exactly are you talking about?” Reno asks bluntly.

The therapist stands up and goes to her desk; she opens a side drawer, digs around and pulls out a business card. She puts it on Reno’s arm rest, and then returns to her chair. “He’s a surrogate partner. A professional at handling intimacy issues, if you will. He can help you regain some trust about touch, even if it’s just being able to have someone clap you on the back.”

Reno stares at the business card. He wants to recoil from it — it seems like something very sleazy, or worse, very weird. He reads the text with a wrinkled nose. _Rodolfo González, Licensed Surrogate Partner._ There’s a phone number and an email address. It’s a simple card, but elegant. Expensive paper. Embossed border. “Feel like I’m holdin’ a high class escort’s card here, doc,” Reno says, his voice fluttering with discomfort.

“I can assure you, Rude is not that kind of man. It’s not unheard of for a surrogate partner to help someone with the more extreme physical issues, but he has a way of helping men and women alike to feel more comfortable with basic, platonic touch.”

“Rude,” Reno says, tasting the name and still grimacing. “Are you making me do this?”

The therapist looks at him with an even gaze. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Reno.”

“Other than come here once a week,” he mutters.

“I think we can help you. Together,” she says.

Reno picks up the card with his index and middle finger, sighs at it, and flicks it into his jacket. “Whatever. What were we talking about?”

She smiles at him and opens her notebook, and Reno tries not to think about the card burning a hole in his pocket.

* * *

Reno sits on his couch and stares at his hands. The cellphone in one, the business card in the other. He exhales. This is _so_ stupid. What if this guy is some creepy old man who pulls a ‘caring grandpa’ routine? What if this guy is some eccentric, flamboyant guy who pushes him too hard? What if this sets him back even further?

The business card quakes in his hand and he puts both down on his coffee table with an angry sigh. He wanders to the small buffet bar at the side of his living room and pours himself two fingers of whiskey. He takes one long sip and sighs. “You can do this,” he says, as though he actually wants to.

He… He does kind of want to, though. What if the guy is nice? What if he’s just a chill guy that Reno could feel comfortable around? He imagines sitting on a couch next to someone and touching knees, and he swoons despite himself. “Shit, you _have_ to do this,” he tells himself. That fantasy on its own was too depressing for him to not make an effort.

He finishes the drink, plops back down on his couch. Unbuttons his stuffy dress shirt down to his belly button. Slides a hand through the messy spikes of his red hair. Picks up the phone. Exhales.

Dials.

The phone rings twice, and Reno almost hangs up when someone answers. “Rude speaking.”

Reno swallows his tongue. Or something like it. He croaks.

“Did Dr. G give you my card?” Rude asks.

“Yes. S-sorry. Uh… I’m, she gave me your card, yeah. And uh.”

Rude’s voice is even-tempered, like he’s had this awkward phone conversation a hundred times. Hell, he probably has. “You’re curious about my services as a surrogate partner, then?”

Reno shuts his eyes. “Uh. Yeah.”

“What’s your name? Can I ask?”

Reno exhales and it turns into a laugh. He gets the urge to tease the man, and forces himself to be good. At least over the phone. “Yeah. Sorry. It’s um. It’s Reno Miska. And… Yeah, the doc. She uh, suggested you might be able to help me with uh… Touch.”

There’s a long pause, and Reno feels the awkwardness start to fold on him. Then Rude clears his throat. “Reno… Sorry. Was getting a pen. Mishka?”

Reno repeats his name. “What exactly do you, um…”

“What I do is separate from what Dr. G can do for you,” Rude begins. It’s a practiced spiel, and Reno tries not to be embarrassed and focus on listening. “Your traditional therapy is there to help you root out the causes of your discomforts to help you confront those issues. Someone like me is there for a more hands-on, direct approach. A lot of what I do involves just getting people used to hugging.” He gives a soft laugh, and even though it’s short, it’s warm. “On rare occasions it can go into helping people with sexual trauma, but we can work out what helps you the most.”

Reno’s mouth works. _Helping people with sexual trauma_. He shifts uncomfortably on his couch. “I almost broke a guy’s arm,” he blurts out. He scrunches his eyes closed. “Cause he touched me out of nowhere.”

Rude hums. “I can assure you, I would never touch you out of nowhere. Everything I do will be fully negotiated, with your consent. None of what we do is your therapist’s business, though I will keep in contact with her to help monitor your progress. And if you can’t handle being touched for a while, that’s fine, too. We can just talk until you feel comfortable enough for more. And if you don’t, then we can cancel my services. Forcing you to be comfortable with me is out of the question.”

Reno smirks despite himself. “You get a lot of people who can’t stand to touch you?”

Rude chuckles. “It’s happened once or twice. No one’s feelings are hurt over it.”

“How uh…” Reno clears his throat. “How far do you, uh…”

“It depends on the client,” Rude says matter-of-factly. “Everything that happens is your choice. I’m just there to push a little. Coach a bit.”

Reno swallows. “How uh… How do you… Where would we…”

“Also up to you,” Rude says. “If you’d prefer I come to your home, where you feel most comfortable, we can work something out. But I have a safe, private and comfortable office, and, I gotta admit, a real nice sofa.” The smile is audible in his words.

Reno balks at the idea of this guy knowing where he lives. “So it’s just a regular office building?”

“Yes. You’d come over for an initial consultation, we can discuss what you’re looking for out of a surrogate partner. We can set a schedule, and move on from there.”

Reno’s face feels hot. This is… Humiliating. “This is all confidential, right?” he croaks.

Rude doesn’t laugh. “Of course. The same privilege your therapist has with you, I’ll have with you. I would never tell Dr. G what transpires, only if you seem to be improving or struggling in a particular area.”

Reno’s head falls back on his couch. “So… When..?”

Rude makes a soft affirmative noise. “Great. Ah…” He lists off a time and a date, and Reno accepts it. They say their goodbyes, and Reno hangs up. The business card is crumpled and sweaty in his hand, and he laughs.

“This is _so_ stupid,” he says again. He decides he’s earned another drink.

* * *

Reno stares at the door. It’s an office building full of a myriad of different offices: a mortgage office, a temp agency, a dermatologist, and several specialists. Their title cards on the wall simply have a full name. No business name. He swallows and finds Rude’s office. Third floor. Second door. There’s a sign: _Please knock!_

Reno exhales nervously and knocks on the door. He came directly after work: he’s still dressed in his black suit and tie, tight dress shirt. He at least took his ear piece out and shades off so he doesn’t look as obviously…well… shady.

When the door opens, Reno is hit with a sense of desire to turn tail and run. The man in front of him is tall and broad and tan skinned, and he’d assume it’s muscles he’s hiding but it’s hard to tell because he’s in a big blue sweater. It looks soft. He’s bald — shaved, probably — with a finely manicured beard. His eyes are golden brown and disarmingly soft. Reno can’t look him in the eye.

“Mr. Miska?” Rude asks, and Reno nods dumbly. “Come in.”

It’s strange inside, like an apartment that had been rearranged to have a large lobby instead of a kitchen. The lobby is more of a living room, with the aforementioned nice couch, a loveseat and two arm chairs. There’s high pile rugs in burgundy tones, soft blankets thrown over the back of each seat. There’s unusual modern art that looks local and bohemian, and a smattering of statuettes that have a vaguely sexual theme. There’s a few bookcases, and further still wooden cabinets with expensive finishes. The whole place smells fresh and slightly masculine, rather than the oddly sterile smell his therapist’s place smells like, like there’s a post-appointment Lysol ritual. There’s two other doors, both dark brown wood veneer; one is open, and it’s a light-filled bathroom. The other is a mystery.

“Please,” Rude says, and gestures him towards the couch. “Sit. Can I get you a water?”

 _No_ , Reno thinks instinctively, and then he can’t help but feel his mouth instantly dry up. “Sure,” he says, and hopes it doesn’t sound as dry as he feels.

Rude gets him a water bottle as Reno sinks down into the couch. Rude gets himself a water and sits on the opposite end. There’s a good six feet of space between them — it’s a big couch — and Reno still feels an itch of discomfort. Jesus, he’s got it bad. He has a feeling this isn’t gonna work out. Doesn’t even want to sit in the same room as another man.

“I spoke with Dr. G, but she didn’t tell me much, as she shouldn’t,” Rude says, gesturing with his water. “And basically said you just… Don’t like to be touched.”

“There’s a lot more than that,” Reno says with a wry laugh, and cracks open the plastic lid. He takes a short drink. “I uh… Jesus. I guess I could just tell you. The uh, the blunt parts.”

Rude frowns a bit. “Whatever you’re comfortable with—”

“I used to be a hooker,” Reno says, and it gets quiet. He sighs. “Sorry. I uh— I didn’t have a great childhood. So. I survived by turning tricks. And a lot of shitty shit happened to me, and now I don’t…” He presses his lips together and feels his eyes sting in embarrassment. Christ, he thought he wasn’t going to have to go through this again with another human being after his therapist, but here he was again. “Nowadays I can’t even get off and I don’t… Let people touch me.”

Rude is quiet for a moment; Reno assumes he’s waiting for him to finish. Reno feels finished. He takes a bigger drink of the water. “That’s why she sent me over. I’ve been in therapy with her for months and uh… It’s doin’ jack squat.”

Rude turns to face him, one leg curled under him. He looks so relaxed that Reno almost resents it. “What would you like out of this, Reno?”

“Honestly?” Reno asks, and gives a sad laugh. “I don’t wanna lose my job because I freak out on uh… anyone. And I’d really like to cum.” The words are out of his mouth before he has a chance to stop it, but what’s the point in lying? He’s seeing a _sex therapist_ and now a _sexy therapist_ —well, or something like it. “I mean, not just that. I want to be able to uh… Date.”

Rude’s eyebrows move up in question, his hands spreading. “What does that entail?”

Reno lets out an embarrassed huff. “You know. Get hard and fuck someone and cum and. Stuff.”

Rude nods. “And just therapy with Dr. G isn’t cutting it?”

Reno sighs with a chuckle. “She asks me a lot of uncomfortable questions that tends to send me down a one way trip to Memory Lane and I uh.” He glances around the room. “I hate it when my mind ends up there.”

Rude makes an agreeable sound. He’s certainly different from Reno’s therapist. No notebook or studied gaze. Not that Reno can take the time to look at his face. It’s a lot, in this private space. “Part of what I do,” Rude explains, “is just getting you comfortable with basic social niceties. We don’t have to talk about your past or your traumas, at least night right away. Maybe not ever, if it’s not necessary.” 

Reno can feel Rude looking at him, but Reno still can’t meet his eyes. “So, Reno. What do you do?”

Reno bristles and then laughs. He didn’t expect that. He also can’t just say _That’s classified_ , because living in the capitol, he could be any manner of government official, doing any manner of good or bad things. “I work in the state department,” he says. It’s intentionally vague. Reno turns to see what Rude thinks of that, and just catches Rude lifting an eyebrow at him.

“I only ask because of the suit.”

“God, can I take my tie off?” Reno asks, and is tugging it off without an answer. “I fucking—I hate dressing like this. But. It’s a good job. I get paid a lot. More than I probably should. And they let me have my hair like this, which is not normally kosher.” He unfastens the top button on his shirt. He wants to do more, but he’s still in public. In an office. At a therapy appointment. …sort of.

“But you have to wear a tie,” Rude fills in for him.

“Cruel world,” Reno says with a laugh. He sucks at his teeth. “Hate stuff around my neck, y’know?” There’s deeper reasons for it. It goes acknowledged, but unsaid.

“Wouldn’t know,” Rude says with placating ease. “I like a nice shirt and tie, myself. But it was a little cold this morning.”

Reno rolls his eyes. This is painful small talk. “You really show up to _intimate appointments_ in a damn tie?”

Rude gives him a tiny smile. His soft lips are just barely curled up on one side. It’s charming. “It helps with the professional atmosphere. I’m not here to go on a date.”

Reno wants to make a joke, but isn’t sure he knows how to twist this into a punch line. “Well, more power to you. I fuckin’ hate the monkey suit,” he says. “At least it intimidates people.”

“Keeps them away from you,” Rude supplies. “Bonus.”

“Other than the ones with a death wish,” Reno says, and a mean little smirk curves on his lip.

“Reno, can I sit closer to you?” Rude asks, and Reno is somehow caught off guard.

“What, on the first date?” he asks, silently congratulating himself on getting his joke in after all.

Rude just looks at him with a wry smirk. “Just thought I’d ask. I get it.”

“No! I mean. Don’t… Not,” Reno says, and then groans. He puts a hand over his face. “Yes, you can sit closer to me.” _I guess_.

Rude scoots over more than half way, but there’s still about two feet between them. They don’t touch, but Reno feels his hackles rise despite himself. He glances up and sees Rude in more clarity. Rude’s face is devoid of judgment. Practiced. It almost pisses Reno off, but the last thing he should do is get mad at this guy, who he knows nothing about. “So what about you?” Reno asks instead. He folds arms. He knows he’s closing himself off, but he’s earned that right, he thinks. This shit is awkward. “How do you have such a nice office when all you do is uh…” Reno doesn’t want to finish the sentence.

“There are a few hazy legal lines about my work,” Rude says with a sardonic smile. “But, with enough reputation and qualified medical contacts, you can start to carve out a niche for yourself. Dr. G is one of about four therapists I know who recommend clients to me. And, the things that I do are quite specialized, so.” Rude shrugs, and one soft, sweater-covered arm rests on the back of the couch. His fingers are close to Reno now. “I charge a lot.”

Reno’s eyes widen, but Rude just laughs. “I already discussed that with your doctor, too. Sounds like whatever firm you’re working for is covering everything.”

“Probably wouldn’t if they knew what this was,” Reno utters.

Rude makes a low rumbling sound, and Reno looks at him to see that it’s a laugh. “What do you think this is?”

“I mean, you’re just an escort,” Reno says blithely. “You just bring in people and fuck ‘em.”

“I _rarely_ go that far with any client,” Rude says. “It’s not as frequently needed. You could almost call me an intimacy coach.”

“I’m _not_ gonna call you that,” Reno says, and rolls his eyes. His gaze darts over to Rude’s hand. It hasn’t moved. He’s not worming his way closer. He’s just relaxed, sitting there with an arm within touching distance but not doing anything. It doesn’t even feel crowded, but it definitely feels… Like crossing a boundary.

“It sounds like all I’ll be doing for you, at first, is getting you used to closeness. Touching. Obviously, people shouldn’t touch you without your permission, but with a little guidance, you might be able to tell a guy off, instead of breaking him.” Rude’s eyes find Reno’s and holds that gaze. “Though I’d like to see it.”

Reno sneers. “Listen pal, you don’t want to try anything with me.”

“I don’t want to fight you,” Rude agrees. “Just want to see you in action. Your work must be physically demanding.”

Reno shrugs. He turns, so that his back is just leaning into the back of the couch. He stares out at the paintings across the room and thinks about the strangely alluring scent of the whole place. “It is. I can at least have people spot for me at the gym,” he says.

“Do you let your colleagues touch you? Casually, I mean.”

“…no.” Reno sighs. “I let it get too bad and I’m just—I’m real fucked up.”

“Someone did that to you,” Rude says, “and it’s not your fault. It’s not like men are encouraged to enjoy touchy feely stuff anyway.”

“Why don’t your fuckin’ cards have that on there instead?” Reno scoffs. His eyes go to the ceiling. ‘Licensed Touchy Feelings’?”

“You sure know how to wound a guy,” Rude says, and it sounds just sad enough that Reno turns to look at him. The bastard has that small grin on his face again, and Reno can’t help but grin, too. Dammit. “Are you comfortable with coming here? Does the time work for you? Do you even want to proceed? Because I’d like to remind you, you don’t have to.”

Reno is quiet. He has to think about it. The whole idea of being pushed into touching someone feels like dunking someone into a tank of spiders. Only instead of spiders it’s someone touching him. Which is basically the same thing. Though he has to admit, if the spiders were all as handsome—

“Yeah. It’s all fine,” Reno says, choosing not to think about what his subconscious thinks.

Rude nods, and then pushes himself off the couch. “Great,” he says. “Let’s get some paperwork signed.”

Reno groans, and prepares himself for the next twenty minutes of legal and medical jargon. He signs his initials over and over, and then Rude carefully clips the papers together and files them. Then he steps up in front of Reno and says, “Reno, may I shake your hand?”

Reno rolls his eyes. He can shake hands. That’s basically the one thing he can do, since he does it for work. Only he forgets — after he agrees — that this is not business, and that he doesn’t have his gloves on. Rude’s hand settles into his for a perfectly normal handshake, and Reno still has to focus on not clenching his teeth. He’s embarrassed, though, and afterward pulls his hand back to slide it through his hair. “Sorry,” he says. “I’m kind of a lost cause.”

For Rude’s part, Reno can tell the other man is struggling not to touch him more. He can tell this guy’s modus operandi is ‘hug it out’, and knowing he can’t is just as awkward. “You’re not,” Rude says instead. “And we’ll take it at your pace. Whatever it takes, Reno.”

He sighs. “Sure, doc.”

“Please, call me Rude.”

“Sure,” Reno says, and watches Rude lift an eyebrow expectantly. Reno rolls his eyes. “Sure, _Rude_.”

Rude’s expression grows amused. “Good. I’ll see you next week.”

Reno leaves and feels goosebumps break out on the back of his neck, like someone’s watching him, but the door is closed. He exhales. Now, to figure out how to tell his boss about this _experimental new treatment_ as euphemistically as possible.


	2. Compulsion

Reno is ten minutes early, but he was desperate to get out of the office. He stands in front of the door with a nervous jitter. This is the first ‘real’ time. Is he gonna get jerked off in an office building? Worse, is he gonna get _hugged_?

He knocks, knuckles rapping right over the ‘please knock’ sign. A few moments later, the door opens and Reno is met with the unfamiliar sight of Rude in a black dress shirt and tie, and sunglasses. “Reno, come in,” he says, stepping aside even as he’s in the process of rolling his sleeves up to his elbows.

Reno stares for a second. People in _his_ work tend to wear shades, but this guy? He steps in and closes the door behind him. “Why the sunglasses?”

“Ah, sorry. Light sensitivity. It’s not an every day thing, but.” Rude shrugs, and with his forearms visible, Reno is able to see the muscular shape of them. “It keeps migraines at bay. It’s either this or turn the lights down and, ah.” His grin is wry again. “We’re not at that point yet.”

“Ha ha,” Reno says, and is secretly thankful. Without Rude’s big dumb eyes staring him down, and in a well lit office, everything seems _less_ intimate. Less scary. He’s used to looking at people in sunglasses. “What’re we doing today, anyway? Gonna hug me until I go limp?”

Rude’s lips purse, and Reno _just knows_ the man is trying to keep a joke to himself, even if he looks more disappointed in Reno’s crassness. “That’s not really my style,” he says instead, and invites him back to the couch. “Drink?”

“I’m good,” Reno says, and throws himself down on the couch. His hands immediately go for his tie, and he rips it out of the collar and opens a button. He stuffs the tie into his jacket pocket. “Finally.”

Rude sits down next to him — two feet away, where he’d ended the previous time — and puts his arm back on the couch. “How are things?”

“Still awkward, thanks,” Reno laughs nervously.

Rude’s expression is harder to read now. The sunglasses close him off more than Reno expected. It’s almost discomfiting, but he forces himself to think about this as professional and… Safe. “Tell me about your weekend.”

Reno is unamused. This was not the forced hugging he’d been expecting. “That was four days ago.”

“Indulge me,” Rude says, and the tone of voice makes a strange feeling bubble in Reno’s stomach.

So Reno tells him. How he spends two hours at the gym normally, but also how he yelled at some kids playing Call of Duty. How he can’t really cook well, but is too cheap from years of living poor to eat a lot of takeout.

“Reno, can I hold your hand?” Rude interrupts, and Reno stares at him like he’s an alien. He was talking about banal bullshit, and that’s what gets Rude’s motor running? Reno sighs out a ‘yes’ and sticks out his hand. “Sorry, go on,” Rude says, and doesn’t take his hand until Reno starts talking again.

Reno’s voice jumps a bit when Rude’s warm, broad hand settles around Reno’s slimmer one, but he goes on. He doesn’t really read as much as he should, but he binged a period piece show online. He fed his beta fish. He…

Rude’s thumb slides over his flesh, and Reno feels tears prickle at his eyes. He doesn’t ask him to stop, and Rude doesn’t ask if he should. Reno powers through. Closes his eyes even as his throat starts to waver. He went to the gym again on Sunday…

Rude’s fingers move, sliding in between Reno’s. Their palms enclose on each other, and actual tears are spilling out over his cheeks at the feeling. It’s overwhelming and he can’t explain what’s happening. He stops talking, and Rude doesn’t ask him to continue. He just lets their hands touch, fingers entwined, and Reno clutches at it. His hand squeezes around Rude’s, and Rude squeezes it back in reassurance. Reno laughs in excitement and embarrassment.

“Fuck, I feel stupid,” Reno admits.

“I’m not going to tell you how to feel,” Rude says. “But know that I don’t think you’re stupid. You’ll pardon the expression, but you’re a little…”

“Fucked up?”

“Touch starved,” Rude says with finality. Reno wants to look at him to read his expression, but his vision is blurred with stupid emotions. He hasn’t even cried in actual therapy. Five minutes of hand holding and he’s crying? ‘Fucked up’ seems a lot more apt than whatever Rude just called him.

“F-fine, whatever,” Reno sniffs. “Tell me about your weekend instead.” He resolutely does _not_ let Rude’s hand go.

Rude’s voice is deep and soothing, and the tears dry up. Reno’s breathing evens out. He keeps his eyes shut as his surrogate partner talks. “I teach self defense on the weekends, so that took up most of my Saturday. The rest of my weekend was mostly relaxing.” Reno sniffs. “Code for being lazy.” Reno’s mouth twists into a tiny smirk.

“Self defense, huh?” Reno opens an eye and turns. Rude is clear to him now. He’s only able to see the shadow of his eyes behind the sunglasses. “You’re fit then?”

“The body’s a temple,” Rude says simply. He shrugs, and the light gesture causes their hands to pull a little closer to Rude, but he doesn’t move them more than that. Reno’s eyes land on their enclosed hands. His lips purse in thought, and he pulls his own hand away. Rude lets him, his thick fingers releasing Reno’s like a popped lock.

“This kinda therapy… Teaching self defense…” Reno’s eyes finally land on Rude’s face, scrutinizing. “You don’t get a lot of male clients in either profession, do you?”

Rude shrugs again. “I don’t. Men would rather just take a jiu jitsu class for self defense, or just swallow their intimacy issues and hope they resolve themselves.” One of Rude’s eyebrows rise above his glasses. “Don’t know if you knew, but we got a lot of macho bullshit in our lives.”

“Macho bullshit?” Reno scoffs. “You save lonely women lives without orgasms and then teach them to fend off rapists. You’re probably drowning in pussy. You’re full on macho, champ.”

“For your information, I don’t date,” Rude says. “It gets complicated when your significant other spends their day tenderly holding someone else.” He chuckles. “I don’t form romantic bonds with clients, but an outsider has a hard time seeing that. Plus, I fully admit I know it wouldn’t be fair to them.”

“Perpetually single and _still_ drowning in pussy. Still macho,” Reno says. His smirk is spreading. He’s pushing Rude’s buttons, or trying to, and it’s putting Reno at ease. He glances down at his hands and curls them into fists when he realizes he wants to hold this macho dick’s hand again.

“Overcompensating on my behalf?” Rude asks. He sounds patient and amused, and it sours Reno’s amusement. “All I wanted to say, Reno, is that you’re a stronger man than most for going to therapy at all, much less finding the right avenue for solving very real problems.”

Reno folds his arms again, scowling. He doesn’t like being complimented. Fawned over. It’s humiliating. And, Rude’s right: it’s making him feel massively emasculated. That _macho bullshit_ is a huge part of how he gets by at work. Stoic men — and three women, to be fair — who dress in immaculate suits and drown their sorrows in booze, not… Someone you pay to pretend to be your friend.

“Can I hold both your hands, Reno?” Rude asks, and Reno’s shoulders practically shoot up around his ears. His discomfort is on display like a god damn peacock.

“Gonna make fun of me the whole time?”

Rude shakes his head slowly, and puts both hands out, palms up. “Not making fun of you at all.”

Reno stares down at the hands. Palms lighter than the rest of his skin. He already knows how warm and soft they are, but with calloused fingertips. He wants to jump off the couch and leave.

But the desire for the touch massively outweighs the emotional distress, and both his hands land back in Rude’s. He sighs in annoyance, like he’s just waiting for someone to look at his nails. Instead, Rude’s hands curl over his, and then those fingers intertwine again. Reno feels an awkward tightness in his throat.

“How does this make you feel?” Rude asks.

“I genuinely hate it,” Reno says, “but don’t… Don’t stop yet.” His eyes meet the floor, and he knows he’s blushing. It’s embarrassing to admit how uncomfortable he is, yet how badly he wants it. It fills his guts with the queasiness that happens when he tries to touch himself. On mornings when he wakes up with soft thoughts and a hard dick and he gets his hand around it, and tries to enjoy it until he starts feeling sick with the pleasure; when it distorts into sickness, uncomfortable memories, and he goes limp and gets angry.

“Reno?” Rude asks, and Reno opens his eyes. Rude’s looking at him over the glasses. “Are you alright? You look…”

“Gonna be sick,” Reno says, and lurches away from him and into the little side bathroom.

He doesn’t throw up. He just runs the sink and splashes his face and grips the porcelain while he stares at himself. He’s so stupid and fucked up that he can’t even hold hands with a man because _it feels good_. “Dammit,” he mutters. Turns off the sink, dries his hands. Stares at the doorknob. Is Rude on the other side? Eagerly waiting to open the door and help him?

He opens it, but Rude is still on the couch where he was. He’s eased back into the cushions. “Feeling alright?”

Reno relaxes at the sight of Rude there; the realization that he’s offering him personal space is… nice. “Yeah. Uh… Sorry.” He rubs the back of his neck and stares at the empty spot on the couch that’s far away from Rude and he’s sorely tempted. Rude raises his hands in surrender.

“We don’t have to push so fast. I didn’t know it was so—”

“It’s not. It’s…” Reno blows out a thin stream of air. “Sorry. I just let myself spiral. You’re not…” He still can’t look at Rude, staring at the floor. “You’re not gross, I just — when stuff feels good, for some reason the first place my mind goes is… Somewhere bad.”

Rude hums in agreement. “When does that normally happen?”

Reno knows he’s gone bright red. He does _not_ want to answer that question, and so instead shuffles back to the couch. He curls into the spot between the arm and Rude where he was before. Rude is inches away from him, but doesn’t touch. Reno still doesn’t look at him, but he can hear another hum from Rude as he goes on, “Ah. When you…”

“Yeah,” Reno says, and folds his arms. “Don’t really wanna talk about that right now.”

Rude’s voice is soft, sweet, and a little pointed in its amusement. “You thought my hands felt that good, huh?”

Reno surprises himself by chuckling, and then reaches out to shove Rude on the shoulder. “Fuck off, I’m that thing you said, ain’t my fault.”

“Touch starved?” Rude says.

“Yeah. I used to be a horny little fucker until this shit all happened, you know that? My body wants it, but my brain shakes my shit all up and then my heart ain’t in it.” He forces his arms to straighten out at his sides. “Can we uh… Can we try again?”

Rude hums again and Reno is starting to find that sound annoyingly reassuring. He’s the one who sticks his hands out, palms up, and Rude takes them again. He scoots closer, and Reno realizes suddenly that that pleasant masculine smell of the room came from Rude and a rather musky cologne that left a sweet, citrus aroma in the back of Reno’s nose.

Reno’s back to keeping his eyes shut. “You smell nice,” he says cheekily. Trying to make up for gagging in front of him before.

Rude chuckles. “My feelings aren’t hurt. I promise.”

“I wasted my best compliment, then,” Reno says, aghast. He feels Rude’s thumbs move in slow circles on his hands, and it’s soothing. He dares to open his eyes and Rude is definitely looking at him, his brows drawn down just a little. “That’s all you’re gettin’ from me.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll come up with enough compliments for you to make up for it,” Rude teases.

Reno frowns. “No thanks.” He’s heard enough _You’re so brave_ s in his life to have it leave a bad taste in his mouth.

“Your freckles make you seem much less intimidating,” Rude says.

Reno’s frown turns into outrage. “That isn’t a compliment!”

Rude’s fingers tickle over his wrists, and then move up and weave into Reno’s. “Your tattoos make me think of little kitty whiskers.”

Reno squeezes Rude’s hands in more faux fury. “My tattoos are scary as hell. I’m a cold blooded man.”

Rude brings their hands up and frees up his fingers so that he can run his thumbs over Reno’s knuckles. “You have the hands of a model.”

Reno stares at him for a long moment. “You’re tryin’ to make me mad.”

“Is it working?” Rude asks, mouth quirking up. “It was more of a way to distract your brain from thinking about other stuff. Is it okay that our legs are touching?”

Reno blinks when he realizes that yes, they’re touching thigh to thigh, and it’s fine. “You tricky bastard.” Rude is about to say something else, and Reno shakes his head. “It’s fine, I don’t mind.” He pouts a little. “I have calloused, working man’s hands, god dammit.”

Reno can’t tell if Rude is rolling his eyes, but the amused disbelief is heavy in the huff he makes. “You don’t have to impress me,” Rude says, and lets go of Reno’s hands. Reno’s mind flares up with confusion and then settles back into the quiet calm of having his bare hands free. “I’m going to put my arm around you.”

It’s decidedly less titillating when the other person dictates what they’re going to do, but Reno _still_ stiffens up a bit. It wasn’t a question: Rude was going to do it without waiting for Reno to prepare himself. And when his hand touches Reno’s shoulder, it slides all the way cross his back and hangs loosely off of the opposite shoulder. Reno can’t help it when his head settles back against the arm. It’s instinctual. Rude isn’t too hot, and his shirt is expensive and pleasant against his skin. Reno’s shoulder settles against Rude’s chest.

“Should have set up my laptop,” Rude rumbles.

Reno tries not to let his thoughts overtake him, but they do. He can’t help but feel like he’s paying a guy for a teenage date that would be lucky to end in heavy petting before curfew. It still embarrasses him more that he’s enjoying it. He, too, wants to lean on a couch and binge watch something mindless and fun while he’s curled up against this not-quite stranger. He wants to shut up about it, but he blurts out, “This is weird.”

Rude’s free hand crosses to rest on his own thigh, palm up. Reno stares at it and he knows it’s bad. A moth to a flame. A total trap to—what, soften him up? “Which part?”

Reno falls for it anyway, his opposite hand landing on Rude’s palm. His fingers graze Rude’s thigh and a nervous thrill shoots through him before they curl into hand holding again. “It feels so… teenage.”

“Did you do this kinda stuff as a kid?” Rude chuckles. “Put the moves on the ladies?”

Reno coughs. “I have never put moves on ladies.” Rude makes a quiet ‘aah’ sound, and Reno gets defensive. “That a problem?” It’s a dumb thing to say. That’s not the mood Rude is giving off at all, and to Reno’s surprise, Rude leans close to him, lips grazing Reno’s ear.

“You tell me.”

Reno’s eyes squeeze shut and he fights off the sensation of vertigo that washes over him. “It might be a problem because I don’t know how to process it when I haven’t put the moves on anyone in a really long time.” Rude leans away from him, and Reno exhales. Opens his eyes, stares down at his hand squeezing Rude’s a little too hard. He eases up on his grip. “S-sorry.”

“I think I’ve pushed your boundaries enough for today,” Rude says, and draws his arm away, but Reno jerks backwards to keep Rude’s arm pinned in place.

“Wait!” he barks, and then looks sheepish. “Maybe just. Just like five more minutes.”

Rude’s face is unreadable, until a tiny smile forms. “Sure.”

* * *

The next time, Rude has a dark purple dress shirt and sunglasses on, and he ushers Reno in with a little smile. “How was your week?” he asks, even as they stand close to the now closed door.

“Exhausting,” Reno says, and reaches for his tie. Rude stops him, placing his hand on Reno’s.

“Can I take your tie off for you?” he asks.

Reno’s mouth works, and then he scoffs. “Sure, whatever.” Both Rude’s hands rise to his neck, and a fleeting sense of panic skates over his neck and then is gone as Rude expertly unties the knot and pulls the fabric loose. Goosebumps rise on Reno’s shoulders.

“Can I roll up your sleeves, as well?”

“Weird way to strip someone,” Reno teases, but offers up his arms anyway.

Rude just gives him a patient smirk and then unbuttons each cuff. He cleanly rolls up the sleeves to Reno’s elbows, exposing his arms, and then clasps one of Reno’s hands. “I thought we could watch a movie.”

Reno hides his excitement in being critical. “What kinda movie?”

“Action? Rom com? High fantasy?” Rude leads him to the couch, and Reno sees he’s wheeled out a nice little TV setup. The coffee table has a bowl of buttery popcorn and cans of soda sitting in ice. “Whatever you want. I admit I like fantasy and highbrow social commentary, but.” His smile spreads into amusement. “I also enjoy mind-numbing movies with bald action stars.”

Reno squeezes Rude’s hand without realizing it. “You _would_.”

They settle into the couch and Rude fiddles with a small remote. The lights dim and the TV turns on, bringing up a variety of streaming options. He pulls his sunglasses off and carefully places them on the coffee table, and then hands Reno the remote. “Whatever you’d like, then.”

Reno admits he wants a movie to distract him completely, but he also wants to be able to enjoy his time with his surrogate partner without having to put all his effort into thinking. He settles onto one of those bald-action-star movies — The Quick & The Quarrelsome? Smash? Crink? — and decides that he’s going to make himself at home. He grabs a cold can of Coke and the bowl of popcorn, and then kicks his feet up on the coffee table.

Rude seems happy with that, and simply settles his arm around Reno’s shoulders.

The movie is definitely mindless, but he’s entertained enough that the warmth of Rude’s body only penetrates his senses as something _good and safe_ instead of panicking. He gets tired of popcorn and finishes his drink, putting them out of the way so that he can just let his arms fall loose.

That’s when Rude makes his move: his fingertips slide from the inside of Reno’s wrists up and down his forearm. A pleasant chill shivers through Reno’s body, and he twists his arm a bit to make it easier for Rude to trace over the length of him with those fingertips.

It’s good and maddening. It’s the kind of teasing that he wishes he could just get hard from. Instead he just shudders until Rude’s voice rumbles in his ear: “Are you cold?”

It feels like a lie to say ‘Yes,’ so Reno instead just chuckles. “Uh, sort of?”

Rude makes that reassuring hum and twists away from him for a moment. He pulls a large plush blanket from the back of the unused part of the sofa and unrolls it. “Can I tuck you in?” Rude teases, and Reno just snorts at him.

The blanket settles over their shoulders, and suddenly it’s much warmer. Cozier. Rude’s arm slides back over Reno’s shoulders, and his body turns enough that he can reach across Reno’s slim body to stroke over his other arm.

Reno glances down at the blanket and sees the shapes of arms moving in the harsh light of the movie’s explosions, and the fantasy of Rude giving him a hand job under the blanket makes him moan out loud.

“Feels good?” Rude asks, misinterpreting, but Reno just nods in agreement. He knows he can’t fucking get hard anyway. His body can tease him with it on a rare morning, but when he’s fully conscious, it’s like his mind is putting a damn cage on his dick.

Rude finally stops stroking his arms, and it gives Reno a moment to catch his breath. He’s trying to focus back on the movie. There’s a car chase scene. Rude chuckles, and at the same time as the lead character, says, “ ‘There’s always a bigger truck.’” Reno turns to him with an aghast look on his face.

“How many times have you seen this?”

“I admit, you picked one of my favorites,” Rude says. His arm settles low around Reno’s waist, and pulls him in almost a hug. Reno wants to feel overwhelmed by all of this, but instead he can’t help but laugh at Rude watching a movie this bad more than once, and just gives in to the feeling of warm, clean cuddling.

It occurs to Reno that he’s never had something like this. Turning tricks was all business and rarely warm and comfortable, much less safe. He feels protected, curled under the broad arms of the other man. He wants to watch the movie — especially with Rude admitting it’s one of his faves — but instead Reno nuzzles into Rude’s shoulder and chest. Enjoys the natural scent of him: sure, his cologne is there, but there’s something else that Reno finds himself longing for; a taste, a touch. What’s under this expensive dress shirt?

The credits roll, and Rude shakes Reno’s shoulder a bit. “How we doing?”

Reno’s head jerks up with a start. He tries not to notice that his mouth had been open and he’d—god, he’d had his mouth on that shirt, hadn’t he? His face burns in shame. “Uh, fine,” he says.

Rude doesn’t even seem to notice. “That’s time,” he says. “Let me turn on the lights and you can wake up a bit.”

Reno is relieved Rude thought he fell asleep, but he does struggle to stop himself from whimpering a bit as he’s let out of Rude’s arms. Rude pops his sunglasses back on along with the lights. He doesn’t look back at Reno as he starts cleaning up the food. “Any sick feelings this time around?”

Reno watches him with an odd feeling in his chest. “No,” he says, and stares down at his arms. He quickly unrolls his white sleeves. “You didn’t make me wanna barf, this time.” He tries to sound snarky. It at least earns him a Strong Look from Rude, which makes that feeling in his chest flutter into flirtatious excitement.

“Thought you said that wasn’t me,” Rude teases back.

He’s feeling more like himself now that the afterglow seems to be wearing off. “Yeah, well, you said it didn’t hurt your feelings either way.” He stands up and stretches. “You’re not gonna make me watch any more of that, are you?”

“Like I said,” Rude says, one more final, amused joke in his tone. “I don’t get into relationships with clients.”

When Reno gets home, he _may_ have ordered the entire action series collection to watch for himself.


	3. Goodnite Mr. Sweetheart

The new flavor of therapy is backfiring. At least, it feels like it’s backfiring to Reno.

He wanted to high five a co-worker this morning. Hell, the day before he’d seen two colleagues at the bar with one arm around the other, and it gave Reno such a sense of longing he wasn’t sure how to process it. Instead he opened his phone and looked at the number he’d saved in his phone as ‘RG’ and wished he could call it. Wished they could talk.

He also knew that was a thought to abandon immediately because he _would_ talk about this, at his appointment, where he was supposed to leave those kind of thoughts. And not because of emotions, but because the physical closeness of another person was desirable and natural to want.

He shoved the phone into his pocket and could not wait for the afternoon.

Now it’s here, and he gets that thrill rolling through him that’s becoming all too familiar at the sight of Rude in that doorway. “Afternoon, Reno,” he says, and barely steps aside to let Reno in. Reno comes in and stands there for a minute like an idiot, trying to decide what he wants to say. Rude’s not in a dress shirt or a sweater today. It’s a loose t-shirt with a faded graphic on the front, and it looks soft.

Thankfully Rude is used to this. The slow budding relationship of master and apprentice, in a way, is something he’s had to do again and again, so he’s good at it. And the first thing he does is telegraph his movement as his hands come in to unfasten Reno’s tie.

Reno chooses to ignore the fact that he makes a tiny sound of pleasure at Rude removing the long strip of fabric, and then opening a button — and then a second — of his shirt.

“Hi, Rude,” Reno finally says, and his voice is breathy.

“Can I take your jacket?” Rude asks. Reno lets him, and it and the tie are hung up neatly on the back of the door.

Rude comes back around to stand in front of Reno, who still hasn’t moved. Rude’s not in sunglasses today, and the lights are on. He must have good days and bad days, Reno thinks, and then gasps as Rude picks up his hands to hold them lightly. “How are we feeling today?” he murmurs.

Reno rolls his eyes. “Doin’ fine.” He should have sat on the couch to get all this started, except Rude holds him in place now, raising those hands to his lips and chastely kissing his knuckles. Reno feels a desire to fight him on it, but all he really wants is to feel the light scratch of Rude’s beard and lips on his fingers. Rude pulls one hand — his dominant, his left — a little further so that he can nuzzle into the palm and then kiss his wrist.

“Anything exciting happen to you lately?” Rude asks, and it feels like boring small talk except for how Reno’s brain feels like it’s bubbling over. He feels Rude’s breaths on his wrist, and then his arm, all the way to his elbow, before Rude entwines his fingers in with it and lets it drop away from his face.

“Um,” Reno says, promptly forgetting everything that’s ever happened to him. “I dunno.”

Rude chuckles at him, stepping close. “Is this too much?” he hums. “I’d like to embrace you.”

Reno wants to be indignant again about how formal it all is, except that’s part of the appeal. All of this is to fix him and send him on his way. Then he can enjoy the bars, and maybe find a tall dark stranger. “That’s fine,” Reno says blandly, betraying the eagerness in the center of his chest.

Rude’s free hand slides around Reno’s waist and pulls him in. Suddenly Rude’s chest is pressing tightly against his, and his arms come around to hold him. Reno’s breath catches as his face is pressed into the shoulder of Rude’s t-shirt, and his own hands shoot up to grab the back of his shirt and hang on.

“That alright, Reno?” Rude asks, and Reno tries not to feel embarrassed when he simply moans an affirmative into the soft cotton.

The hug lasts a long time. Every time Reno squirms a bit, Rude’s hands move to a new location. His fingertips press softly into sensitive parts — the small of his back, just under his ribs, at the base of his neck — and then spread out to just hold. It’s relaxing, but it’s much more exciting than Reno expected. Reno can feel his heartbeat pounding in his throat, especially when Rude finally pulls back enough to look at him.

Rude’s eyes are brown and flecked with gold, and his gaze is all-encompassing. Rude lifts a hand to cup Reno’s face, and his thumb slides over one of the sharp red tattoos at his cheek bone.

“How do you feel?” Rude asks.

Reno is trembling like a cold chihuahua. He can’t look away from Rude. “Good,” he says dumbly.

“Would you like me to kiss you?”

Reno’s face grows hot. “Uhh… Yeah.” So Rude’s hand slides around to cup the back of his neck, and he tips his head down to press his lips chastely over Reno’s. Reno’s hand darts out to hold tightly to Rude’s hip, his fingers sliding into the belt loops of his slacks. That gives him something to hold onto as Rude kisses him again and again, always chaste, though lingering longer and longer. Rude’s beard is ticklish and a little bristly, but in a way that makes Reno want to rub against it like a damn cat.

Rude’s tongue darts out to slide over Reno’s bottom lip, teasing his mouth open. Rude tastes neutral; for some reason Reno expected him to taste like cinnamon chewing gum or like he gargled mouthwash. Instead it just feels like a kiss should: no pretense, just the warm slide of their mouths. Reno sinks into the feeling, his arms tightening around Rude while his own body sags against the other. The tip of Rude’s tongue is teasing Reno’s, and then Rude makes a gentle sound of amusement. “You warmed up to that fast.” He pulls back enough that he can watch Reno’s face.

Reno’s eyes dart away from Rude’s. “You’re good at it,” he says, brows furrowing. “Can we sit?”

The couch poses a new problem to Reno, and that’s that it’s a little harder to make out side by side. But Rude doesn’t seem to haven an issue, simply wrapping an arm around Reno and turning his body to face him. The kisses start out chaste again, and Reno gives in to the slow, sexy feeling of being opened up this way. His knees are seeking out contact the same way his hands keep skirting at the base of Rude’s shirt. He wants to… Touch. It’s one thing to be touched, but Rude is tantalizing. Reno wants to run his own fingertips over Rude’s skin the way he had touched his arms before.

He also wants to throw himself on Rude’s lap and sit, and even Reno knows that’s going to be too much. The queasy feeling rears it’s head and Reno pulls back from the kiss with a shuddering gasp.

“Need to slow down?” Rude murmurs, and Reno’s heart screams _No!_ even as he’s nodding vigorously. His damn brain’s out to get him, he swears.

“I really don’t want to go slow,” Reno whispers. “But I know I hafta. And it’s. I’m fighting myself here.”

Rude hums. His hand glides over the placket of Reno’s shirt, thumb and forefinger teasing the buttons but not opening them. “Be honest,” he says, and his voice on some kind of frequency that just makes Reno’s neck constantly covered in goosebumps. “Is there something you’d like to do?”

“Touch you,” Reno blurts out, and then feels his face heat up. He can’t look Rude in the eye, so Rude forces him by lightly placing his fingers under Reno’s chin. Reno tries very hard to not whimper, and fails. “I just. Your arms. Your chest. Maybe.”

“Want me to keep the shirt on?” Rude asks, and Reno’s eyes widen a bit. He nods.

Rude eases back, then, letting his arms fall away from him so that Reno has room to maneuver.

The desire to plant himself on that lap springs up again, but he forces it away. The last thing he should do is feel a hard dick under him. Or is it the _first_ thing?

“Reno?” Rude asks, and Reno realizes he’s just been frozen, thinking a mile a minute.

“Yes!” Reno says, and then puts his palm awkwardly on Rude’s chest. “Sorry.”

Rude just gives him an encouraging little grin and reclines his head against the couch.

Reno knows what a muscular chest feels like. He has to keep fit somehow, and he’s felt his own muscles, though it was usually under more “ugh god I’m sore” circumstances. Rude’s pecs are bigger than he’s used to, though. Soon both his hands land on his chest, and his palms catch the nubs of Rude’s nipples. It sends a bolt of _something_ straight through him, though he’s not sure what. Reno’s dick is still totally asleep, the bastard, but this is still arousing in a more…emotional way, he supposes. He moves his hands up and down; up to smooth over Rude’s shoulders, down to follow the indents of Rude’s abs. Reno wants to stick his hand up his shirt to touch him, but Rude leans forward until his nose and mouth tickle at Reno’s neck. It’s a sufficient enough distraction when he feels Rude kiss up and down his neck.

It’s nice. There’s no edge of sourness to any of what they’re doing. Reno wants to push for more, but he’s trying to be a good client — at least, that’s what he tells himself, instead of admitting he’s too nervous to actually do more. He didn’t even dare to put his hand up Rude’s shirt, for fuck’s sake.

Rude kisses him again, and Reno tries to let his brain fade out so he can enjoy the slide of mouths. His hand comes up to caress the back of Rude’s neck. Rude makes a noise, low and sweet, that sends a surge of excitement through him.

Reno can’t help but notice that Rude is soft, too, and part of him wonders if that’s normal. If Rude only gets hard for actual sex; if this kinda thing is too banal. If only something truly depraved gets him off, something really intense, scary—

Reno gasps, pulling back. He looks embarrassed as Rude meets his eyes. “Sorry,” he whispers.

“You alright?” Rude murmurs. “Think I could tell you were overthinking.”

“Can’t help it,” Reno says.

Rude nods and leans back enough that he can cross his hands at the bottom of his t-shirt and then pull it up and off. He drops it on the coffee table and Reno’s eyes zero in on the planes of muscles, his negative thoughts drying up. “Can I take yours off?” Rude asks, and Reno nods dumbly.

Rude works each button open methodically and then brushes the white shirt off of Reno’s shoulders. He pulls up the thin white undershirt with it, and then gathers both and places them onto the coffee table. And then, to Reno’s confusion, Rude leans back on the couch, his back falling into the cushions; his arms spread. “Lay with me,” Rude says.

Reno gulps. He wanted this. Still wants this. He drags himself up and over until he’s hovering above Rude’s broad chest, and then simply falls against him. Reno’s cheek falls just above Rude’s pectoral, and Rude’s hands land on Reno. One slides up and down his back and the other over his arm. It’s pleasant. Soothing.

“Oh,” Reno mumbles. His arms slide around Rude’s torso and he gives in, just letting Rude touch him.

“Better?” Rude says, his voice warm with amusement.

“Mmm,” Reno says, and he means it. They just enjoy the quiet peace the rest of the appointment, and Reno’s glad to finally let his mind switch off.

* * *

At the start of their next meeting, Rude pulls him into a hug before he has a chance to do anything else. Reno needs it. His day has been a pile-on of frustration and dealing with impatient superiors. He’d gotten a sharp jab in his side from a particularly ill-tempered suspect. The vending machine closest to his office had been making an irritating buzz from 8:16 AM onwards. He’s had a headache building much of the day.

He melts into Rude’s warm arms. “Hi,” he says, voice muffled in the expensive linen.

“Hello, Reno,” Rude rumbles, and Reno tries to calm down that eager flutter that happens whenever the surrogate partner says his name. Because, Reno tries to remind himself, that is what Rude is: a service provider. A temporary problem solving device. With a sexy voice and muscular arms and a chest that Reno gets _mad_ about — it’s perfect, why can’t he just get hard thinking about it?

Rude pulls back from him, just far enough to loosen his tie. Reno feels the tension sag out of him. Rude’s got sunglasses on this time. “How are you feeling this afternoon?” Rude asks.

“Like shit,” Reno says, and flashes him one of his genuine smiles. It’s toothy and scary and a little feral, but it’s honest. He watches one of Rude’s eyebrows arch above the shades, mouth tipping up in amusement, and it gives Reno a thrill.

“Sorry to hear that,” Rude says, pulls the tie loose, and then grabs one of Reno’s hands. “Physical altercations?”

“That’s part of the job, but yeah. A little more than usual today.”

“Did you get ‘em back?” Rude asks, and then snaps his mouth shut. He lets Reno’s hand fall. It’s like the words came out of him unbidden; like he knows he shouldn’t cheer Reno on for any type of violence, but he can’t help himself.

Reno’s genuine, terrifying smile is back. “Yup.”

Rude purses his lips a bit and straightens Reno’s shirt. “Good.”

“Why, you worried about me?” Reno asks smugly, and Rude shakes his head. Reno will never admit the soft pang he gets in response.

“If you worked up a sweat, maybe you’d like to shower,” Rude says, and pulls his sunglasses off. He tucks them into his pocket. “With me.”

Reno’s mouth goes dry, even as he tries to laugh it off. “And get my clothes all wet?”

“Oh, I’ll take care of those,” Rude murmurs, and leans down to kiss Reno once. It’s chaste, and Reno’s mind starts flooding over. “If you’ll take care of mine.”

“D-deal,” Reno says, and chooses to ignore his own voice cracking.

Rude kisses him again and again, until Reno forgets what he was upset about. Rude’s tongue teases him until Reno gets impatient and pushes past Rude’s lips, wanting to taste his mouth, and Rude lets him.

Finally, Reno pulls back and looks up at him. His lips feel as swollen as Rude’s look, and it just makes him want to kiss him more. Rude doesn’t let him apologize, instead snatches his hand and pulls him into that bathroom that Reno hasn’t been in more than once. Now that he’s not dizzy with queasiness, he notices that besides the sink and toilet, there is a large stone-tiled shower; it’s large, with an inset seat and glass doors and two shower heads. He wonders if it’s more expensive than that huge couch.

“Are you comfortable with this?” Rude asks, even as his fingers unfasten each button on Reno’s shirt. “You _don’t_ have to be completely naked. But I’d like to see you.”

Reno hasn’t quite thought about it. “You wanna see a limp dick, huh?”

Rude pauses, his fingers moving to under Reno’s chin. “I want to see every part of you as you are.”

Reno looks away with a soft ‘tsch’, even though he knows his cheeks are turning pink. “That line ever work?”

Rude’s hand moves down to finish with his shirt. “Just did, didn’t it?”

Reno grins despite himself. “You this cocky with everybody else?” Rude tugs the white undershirt up over his shoulders.

Rude hums with a secretive smile. “No.” Reno’s shirts are placed on the edge of the sink, and then Rude slowly kneels. Reno’s mouth works, like he wants to make a joke, but no words come out as Rude reaches down to unfasten the clasps on Reno’s shoes. “But it seems to put you at ease.”

Finally Reno is able to exhale out a laugh. “Yeah, what’s up with that?”

“It takes all kinds, Reno,” Rude says patiently. Reno feels his cheeks grow hotter as he has to lean forward, putting one hand on Rude’s shoulder to balance as he raises one foot for Rude to remove the shoe and sock. Then he switches sides. It’s discomfiting to feel someone touching his feet like this, especially when Rude’s fingers glide over his ankle, then the top of his foot. Places Reno doesn’t even touch on himself.

Then Rude shifts up to his knees and pulls open Reno’s belt, and Reno blows out a thin stream of air. Here it comes. The rush of shame is starting to build already. Rude doesn’t even pull the belt out of the loops; he just opens the fly and zipper and shimmies the work slacks down. Rude has him step out of them, and tosses them up on the sink as well. And then, with no ceremony, Rude peels his utilitarian black briefs off of his hips and slides them down his legs. Reno steps out of them, and then he’s done: Naked and a little cold with a soft dick.

Rude simply stands, reaching up to card his fingers through Reno’s hair until he pulls the little tie loose from his pony tail. His hand slides to the back of Reno’s neck, grasping him gently. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Reno presses his lips together and shakes his head. And then Rude steps back from him, hands out at his sides. “Go ahead,” Rude adds.

Reno’s still amazed the other man didn’t make a single comment, positive or negative, and it spurs him on. Being naked like this isn’t unusual. He’s been naked in locker rooms, but you’re _supposed_ to be chaste in a place like that. In a private bathroom, in front of the one of the hottest dudes Reno’s ever seen, well…

“You’re overthinking again,” Rude rumbles with a gentle tease, and Reno’s eyebrows draw down in the center so that he can focus on stripping Rude. It’s much less slow and methodical. He gets the buttons open and untucks the undershirt, but then takes a moment to slide his hands over Rude’s shoulders.

“I want to… Touch you,” Reno admits.

“At least level the playing field first,” Rude says. Reno chuckles and pushes the shirt off and lets it land on the floor; same for the white tank. Then, he starts to drop to his knees, when Rude catches him by the elbow. “I’ll get my shoes,” he insists, and toes out of them. Reno knows he just doesn’t want him on his knees. It annoys Reno that this small gesture fills him with relief. Going down on his knees in this place, right now, would be safe. But it still fills him with dread; makes the mental images in his mind twist into Rude shoving his hand over the back of his head—

Reno rolls his eyes, but straightens up and aggressively opens Rude’s belt. He watches Rude and feels annoyance again at how soft the taller man is looking at him, at least until Reno’s fingers pop open his fly and shove his pants down. The irritation evaporates instantly at the sight of Rude’s pupils dilating because of Reno’s hands.

Rude’s pants pool at his ankles, and he steps out of them. Reno’s fingers land on his hips. His thumbs slide under the waistband, and his eyes rise to meet Rude’s. “I feel awkward.”

Rude nods. “Want me to take them off?”

“No,” Reno says immediately. “I’m just. Nevermind.” There’s no way he can say _I’m savoring a very awkward moment_ without making it even _more_ uncomfortable. Rude doesn’t push him to finish his thought anyway, so he’s able to bite his lip and focus. On Rude’s black boxer briefs with the designer name stitched into the band. At the sizeable bulge there. For some reason, Reno does not expect this. The sex surrogate has a huge dick. The kind of dick that’d make a guy feel inferior in its presence, even when it’s soft. Especially when it’s soft.

Jesus, what’s it like when it’s hard?

Reno knows he’s been staring at a clothed penis for a full minute but Rude still isn’t pushing him to do anything. He’s just standing there, pants and shoes at his ankles, letting Reno have a silent crisis. Is it a crisis, or more of an awakening? Is it both? Does the sight of the slim, well-sculpted treasure trail that starts low on Rude’s abs make this easier? Knowing that he probably grooms himself immaculately both up and downstairs when Reno can barely shave his face in the morning much less any other part of his body?

He exhales, and then yanks them down. He has to bend a little to get them down to his knees. His eyes go straight up to Rude’s, in a show of defiance.

(He looks down immediately afterward to get an eye full of closely trimmed, tightly coiled dark hair and a thick, uncut cock and then looks back up again, but the defiance is gone in favor of blistering, embarrassed excitement, but Rude is a professional and, Reno assumes, he chooses not to notice.)

Rude has finished pulling his boxer briefs down and stepping out of the rest of his clothes. He slides a hand over Reno’s arm and jerks his head to the side. “Go figure out the shower, let me fold these clothes.”

Reno actually scoffs at him at the mere idea of fucking around with their clothes, and moves over to the shower, opening the large glass door and then staring at the controls. He’s grateful for the space and distance. He can get warm and comfortable under the spray — once he figures out the handles, it’s easy — and process what he just saw.

Just another naked guy. Normal stuff. He turns, the rain shower head getting him soaked in moments, and watches Rude through the rapidly fogging glass as he hangs up both their shirts on hangers on the back of the door; folds their pants and underwear; tucks their socks into their shoes. It’s irritatingly thoughtful.

Reno turns away from him to look for a bar of soap and finds one sitting above a fresh wash cloth. He takes both and then just lets his head fall forward as he enjoys the feeling of hot water pounding down on his neck and shoulders.

Reno hears the glass door open and close, and tenses up as he expects Rude to come up from behind. But instead he just feels Rude’s hand touch his from the side. “Let me,” Rude says, and Reno looks up in a haze as he he hands off the soap.

Reno lets out a long sigh when he feels Rude start to wash his back. He lets his mind drift, just enjoying the sensation until Rude stops and hums. His fingers lightly graze the soft bruise at his side. Rude doesn’t sound pleased.

“You should see the other guy,” Reno murmurs. He laughs a moment later and Rude decides to let it go, sliding soapy hands over Reno’s ass. It’s not that it makes Reno nervous, but he suddenly wants to see Rude’s face, and turns so that the water rinses away the soap immediately.

“I know you can take care of yourself,” Rude says thoughtfully, and then scrubs Reno’s chest. “But I have to wonder…”

“Nope,” Reno says. It’s another one of Rude’s little distraction techniques, and it’s working, damn the man. “Part of the job and I’m fine. I just bruise easily.” Rude just hums in agreement, and Reno’s mouth runs before he has a chance to stop himself. “Like a ripe peach.”

It’s imperceptible: Rude’s hand squeezing the soap in the rag just a little too hard, so it shoots out the bottom and slides over the floor. Reno laughs out loud, throwing his whole head back at Rude’s expense. It’s light hearted and it feels good, and Rude just grins bashfully up at him as he gets down on his knees to gather the soap. “Shut it,” Rude adds, and moves to soap up Reno’s thighs.

“Finally, I have the upper hand for five glorious seconds,” Reno says, and Rude just gives him an indulgent, if small, smile. Reno gazes down at him while Rude scrubs each leg clean.

His eyes rise to meet Reno’s. “Can I…?”

Reno pretends his thighs aren’t shaking. “Might as well.”

Rude does a perfunctory job at soaping him up, but then he puts the soap back into Reno’s hand so it’s out of the way. His fingers glide through the long, auburn-tinged pubes, and Reno can’t look away when Rude swipes a thumb over the glans to clean him. How can something feel so clinical and sensual at the same time? It’s maddening.

Rude swipes the rag between his thighs, hands brushing his balls, and then stands, passing the cloth off. Reno takes it and avidly scrubs his armpits to lighten the mood, but Rude’s expression has never been heavy. He’s just got this look on his face like he’s enjoying the company, that’s all. Like they’re playing backgammon or whatever.

“My turn?” Reno asks holding up the washcloth with waggling eyebrows.

Rude shrugs. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Oh, Reno’s comfortable, dammit. He vigorously rubs the bar of soap so that the cloth is fully lathered, and then scrubs Rude down like it’s a god damn car wash. Rude can pull of ‘clinical and sensual’, but even before, Reno feels like he had two separate modes and ne’er the two could meet _then_. Now he doesn’t even know what sensual means, so instead he’s thorough and quick in a way that has Rude chuckling in surprise.

Until Reno reaches the center of his body and…

Rude says nothing at first. He’s letting Reno process, again, the fact that he has to touch a dick. Because Reno knows the longer he waits, the more likely it is Rude will say ‘Want me to do it for you?’ and Reno wants him to know how badly the answer to that question is ‘no’. Reno wants to touch him. He does. He just…

He hands the cloth back to Rude and looks embarrassed. It feels like a failed mission. But Rude just takes it from his hands and winks at him like it’s no big deal as he soaps off his own dick, and Reno watches like he wasn’t just given the opportunity to do it for him.

They stand under the water together, inches apart as they rinse off, and Reno finally whispers: “Now what?”

“Thought we could lay together. Touch each other. Get you comfortable with the idea.” Rude reaches past him to hang up the soap and turn off the water. “Whatever you like.”

“On the couch?” Reno asks, dubious, and Rude actually cracks into a small grin.

“No. There’s a bedroom.”

The other door, Reno realizes. Obviously there would be a bed at a … Sex Surrogacy Office.

Boy, if he hadn’t been limp before, he would have definitely been limp at that thought. Making it clinical indeed, Reno.

“Sure,” Reno says, and he winces, knowing the awkwardness is plain as day on his face. Rude opens the shower and steps out to grab a towel. Reno steps out after him and is surprised to find Rude wrapping him in the towel; he dries off his face with a tenderness that has an underlying, undeniable sexual current. It’s strange to feel taken care of in this way, but he craves it, so he allows it.

When they’re both dry and have towels wrapped around their waists, Rude leads him into the bedroom. There’s framed fabric panels on the walls — decorative as well as good for sound absorption, Reno thinks wryly — and an enormous bed with clean white linens. There’s a window too, though with gauzy white curtains covering it to let in light but allow for privacy. There’s more cabinets in here, and Reno’s mind goes a little wild wondering what’s behind every new little mystery door. Four foot dildos. Real dolls. God only knows.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Rude says with a ghost of a smile.

Reno turns back to look at him as Rude closes the bedroom door. “Huh?”

“Thinking so loud I can hear the hamster wheel squeaking in there,” Rude teases.

“I don’t know _how_ therapists recommend you, you’re a dick,” Reno laughs.

“Nearly all my clients are women,” Rude says, and then moves to the bed. He hangs his towel on a bed post and then climbs on top of the comforter. “Who like it when I call them sweetie. If I can’t do that, I guess I end up falling back on camaraderie instead.”

“You just assumed I didn’t want you to call me that,” Reno says, folding his arms in a fake indignant huff. His eyes pore over Rude’s body, bronze and so muscular from neck to ankle. There’s something vulnerable about seeing his bare feet, he thinks, even though Reno’s got an eye full of more vulnerable parts with him like this. He should take his towel off and join him. He should. His fingers shake, so he clenches them into fists.

Rude’s eyebrow is arched in disbelief. He pats the blanket next to him — a good foot away, offering him extra space — and says, “Join me, sweetie.”

Reno’s nose wrinkles. “Okay, yeah, you may have been right about that.”

Rude’s laugh is quiet. “Get over here, hamster wheel.”

“ _Such_ a dick,” Reno repeats, but he’s put at ease enough to take the towel off.

“That’s what they say,” Rude hums. His face is smug enough that Reno has zero guilt about walking to the bed, picking up a pillow and swatting it at Rude’s head. When it falls down, he still has that amused look on his face, but his eyes are softening. Reno hates that look. It’s terribly effective.

He crawls onto the comforter and lays down. He stares up at the ceiling and whispers, “Don’t think I’m very good at touching people anymore.”

Rude sits up on an elbow, scooting himself closer. “It’s not about that. I just wanted to give you the opportunity to lay down and, if you felt like it, you could touch me. Or yourself.”

Reno’s eyes squeeze shut and he smirks. “You know I ain’t gonna manage to jerk off.”

“Sorry, that’s—not what I meant,” Rude says, and lightly strokes Reno’s arm. “Just enjoying touch. However you’d like to feel it.”

Reno swallows hard. When he opens his eyes, Rude is just waiting patiently for him. “Okay. However I like it,” Reno says with confidence, and then pushes himself up to crawl closer to Rude. He pushes Rude back into the bed, and Rude lets him, even if his hazel eyes look a little surprised. It’s odd to be up here with another person. Someone under him, squeezed between his legs with no hard-on. His palms end up on Rude’s chest, and he stares down at him. “This is weird.”

“Starting to sound like you have a catch phrase,” Rude says. The way he looks up at Reno makes a curling heat twist in his abs. Rude’s got such thick eyelashes. He wants to feel them on his cheeks. His face flushes at the idea, but he blames it on Rude ribbing him again.

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Grunts,” Reno says, and lets his thumbs slide over Rude’s dark nipples. Rude’s jaw twitches as he clenches his teeth. That piques Reno’s interest. He lets himself sit back, his ass resting mid-way on Rude’s thighs. His hands drag down his abs. “It’s just, after so long of, you know. Can’t shake hands without gloves on, now I’m…” His palms have to swoop out to the sides as they land on Rude’s hips. If they moved inward, they’d be carding through the trimmed hair there. They’d be centimeters from that big soft dick.

Rude just gazes up at him, perfectly patient. “Do whatever you like.”

It’s overt permission. Reno’s eyes dart from Rude’s face, down, and back up. He stops himself from saying it again — _even though it IS weird!_ — and then his left hand lifts, fingertips tracing in little patterns as it draws ever closer to his dick. He bites his lip and traces a line up and down it. He’s velvety, like any dick, but Reno feels overwhelmed, like he wants to get his hand on it, suddenly. Like it’s the whole point to get him hard, to prove—

Reno rolls off of him and flops onto his back. “Will you take the lead,” he says, voice watery. “I uh…”

“Sure,” Rude says. “We can stop here, if you like.”

“No, keep goin’,” Reno says. Rude slides up next to him and, true to his word, touches him. He picks up Reno’s hand and kisses his knuckles. Reno wants to roll his eyes and tell him to get new material, but instead he’s silent as he watches Rude turn his hand over so his lips move to his palm. His inner wrist. Arm.

Reno’s breath catches as Rude moves up, kissing over his shoulders, his collarbone. He sucks on his neck for just long enough for Reno to moan, and then moves down to his chest. Reno’s eyes flutter shut when he feels Rude’s lips touch the top of his pectoral muscle, and his mouth opens in a gasp when a pointed tongue circles around his small, pink nipple, but not directly on it. The lips move, kissing between his chest, and then moving to the opposite nipple to ease it in much the same way. Reno’s heart is pounding, and the desire is buzzing hard in his guts, his dick just won’t cooperate. He tries to turn off the disappointed mindset. He’s caught off guard as Rude’s lips settle around his nipple and start sucking. He moans in surprise, hands coming up to grab Rude’s head. But he doesn’t pull the other man away, just caresses him as Rude’s eyes slowly rise to meet Reno’s.

The gaze is hot. The feeling is hotter, made worse when Rude nibbles and pulls, and it spurs more pleased moans out of Reno.

He does it all again with his left nipple. Reno’s writhing beneath him; he can feel his own body practically undulating, arching up under him to try and get more skin to skin contact. Reno has to look past him, look down the length of Rude’s body, and can see that his cock is full and pointed directly in Reno’s direction.

Reno’s groan is in dismay, this time. He seemed to get hard so easily just from touching Reno — it felt unfair that it didn’t work in the reverse. He still can’t say anything, too caught up in the sight of Rude’s mouth moving over his muscular torso, tongue dipping into the V at his hips that he’s quite proud of. Rude doesn’t move to the center — why would he, Reno’s still limp — but seems to enjoy kissing and nipping at the tops of his thighs, at the soft points of his inner thighs, the ticklish places behind his knees. Reno doesn’t even stop him when Rude leans back on his haunches and pulls Reno’s feet up from the bed, rubbing them tenderly before placing wet kisses on each clean toe. It’s entirely too much. It tickles his feet. Reno loves it.

He’s been teased within an inch of his life, and the worst part about not getting hard is that precum has still formed at the tip of his dick. He lets his head fall with a thunk against the mattress, squeezing his eyes shut. He wants it. Already. But there’s something there, blocking it off from reach, and he doesn’t know what it is.

He feels Rude’s breath and stubbly jaw at his hips again and then gasps when he feels Rude’s mouth a hair’s breadth away from his limp cock. He stares down at him and watches that tongue slide out over the glans, swiping at the wetness there.

Reno feels the dark cloud descend immediately at the realization that this gorgeous, hard man’s first taste of his dick is flaccid pre-ejaculate, and he wants to die. “Stop,” Reno says, and pulls his own hips up and away from Rude. “Stop, stop.”

“Whoa, sure,” Rude says in surprise, and Reno doesn’t have to see him to know the look has changed into concern. “What—”

“Can’t believe the only thing I’ve had touch my dick in years is a hot mouth and I still can’t even…” Reno’s fist slams the bed. “I wanna be done.” The discomfort is rising in his throat, threatening to spill over into anger, or worse: tears. “I need to be done.”

Rude is away from him in an instant. “Do you want me to hold—”

“Bring me my clothes, please,” Reno says, stubbornly staring at the wall. When Rude returns with his clothes, Rude tries to talk to him, but Reno can barely hear him.

“…normal to struggle at first… should have asked, I’m sorry…”

“It’s fine,” Reno says, shoving his pants on. He doesn’t even bother with the socks before he gets his shoes back on. “You’re fine. I just… I need to be done for today.” He still can’t look at Rude as he mumbles, “Thanks anyway,” and slinks out of the office.


	4. Thank You

It’s frustrating to be dreading something that had previously been the awkward highlight of his week.

Reno’s been reliving the last twenty minutes of the previous session every time he closes his eyes. It’s not painful, but it prods at him. Especially since his stupid brain hadn’t wanted to look at Rude clearly, so he doesn’t even have a clear memory of that face of concern, or the shape of that _dick_.

Christ, he’d woken up hard once after that day, and Reno had rubbed himself on the sheets until it had faded. That just compounded the frustration, that his stupid sleepy mind was worthy of a boner, but not that over six foot tall handsome devil with the soft eyes?

Ugh.

He’s shifting back and forth as he stares at the door. He knows nothing wrong happened. If he wants to stop, he’s allowed to stop. That’s the whole thing. Test boundaries, push them, and make new ones. He knows damn well that the embarrassment he feels is totally unjustified. But knowing that just makes the shame worse.

Rude opens the door before Reno knocks, and the first thing he notices is the way his eyes seem to light up at the sight of his client. The next thing he notices is the dark red henley carefully stretched around Rude’s muscular arms and chest. Reno swallows. “Hi.”

Rude ushers him in. There’s no sunglasses today, and Reno’s eyes flicker up from his eyes down to his tight jeans and then back up. “I want to apologize, again,” Rude starts, and reaches forward to slide his fingers down the side of Reno’s tie. “Can I take this off?”

Reno rolls his eyes. “Yes. And, it’s fine. This stuff is part of the process, right?” He knows he can play it off, and he assumes that’s what the surrogate wants from him anyway. Rude’s fingers move dextrously to pull the tie from its knot and his collar. He carefully rolls it up and tucks it into Reno’s suit jacket pocket, causing Reno to smirk at him.

“We can slow down. I want us to,” Rude says. “But just to a bit more innocent touch.” Reno is about to object at the idea of another hour of hand holding — even though yes, of course he wants to do that _at the very least_ — when Rude pops open the top two buttons on his shirt. “Would you like a massage? Or I could just. Brush your hair.”

“Of course I want an ass massage,” Reno says snidely, and Rude’s eyes narrow for a split second. “Yeah, yeah. You can rub my shoulders. Just quit apologizing about it. Makin’ it worse.”

Rude shoots him an unreadable look, and then shrugs. “How about you sit in front of the couch wherever you’d like, and then I’ll work all the knots out.”

Reno rolls his eyes and then his shoulders as he finds the only spot not occupied with coffee table in front of the couch. He doesn’t mind splaying his legs out in front of him on the floor, as the rug is plush and comfortable under him. He realizes a little too late, as Rude settles behind him, that he’s going to have Rude’s knees and _thighs_ on either side of him, but… He has to admit he likes it. It feels protective, and this whole thing is a fantasy anyway, so why not imagine this bigger guy can offer that?

Rude is good with his hands. His thumbs hurt, but every suffering dig seems to work an uncomfortable muscle loose. Rude doesn’t even go out of his way to touch skin; he squeezes and prods around Reno’s dress shirt just fine, and Reno feels utterly relaxed. It’s nice to put yourself in someone else’s care when they know what the hell they’re doing. Rude’s fingers find the base of his skull and press in gently, enough that Reno lets out a soft groan. His hands ease up then, just his fingertips lightly stroking over Reno’s neck, and then away.

“Good?” Rude asks.

“Uh huh,” Reno says, head lolling a bit. “Damn.”

Rude hums and stretches slightly to reach something further down the couch. Reno doesn’t care what it is, or even realize it until he feels the plastic bristles of a brush slide through his hair. “Huh?”

“All the knots out,” Rude teases, and Reno just snorts dismissively. He admits that he’s happy to let the guy brush his hair. He’s not an imbecile, and has probably brushed plenty of women’s long hair before. He starts at the top, through the shorter, though still shaggy top, and then lets Reno’s hair free of its clasp to brush the long red tail with meditative slowness.

When Rude stops, it’s to slide his fingertips over Reno’s scalp, carding through his hair, and it feels incredible. It’s lighting up his neck and face, and he wants to feel that everywhere. His hips twitch forward, his own hands squeezing at his thighs, and then opens his eyes. He stares down and whispers, “Holy shit.”

Rude stops, his fingers still in his hair. “You okay?”

“Rude,” he says, and starts laughing. “I’m hard!”

Rude doesn’t move his hands. “What?”

He doesn’t even want to touch himself, afraid he’ll ruin it, but when he stands up, even with a headrush he still feels that insistent boner pressing against his zipper. Especially when he turns and Rude’s face is awfully close to it.

The tips of Rude’s ears turn red, his lips spreading into a casual smile. “I see.”

“Shut up,” Reno says, and immediately sits on Rude’s lap. For once, Rude actually looks flustered. God, no wonder he’s hard. This guy is incredible. His fingers fist the soft material of his henley, and Reno grinds himself up against Rude’s abs.

The damndest thing happens: Reno _feels_ Rude get hard under his ass, and Reno’s cock gets _harder_. He yanks Rude forward into a kiss, and the other man goes willingly; though his arms shoot out to caress Reno; one hand at his hip, the other still around his back.

Reno can’t stop himself; his hips are moving back and forth, grinding himself on the tight denim of Rude’s pants. He feels Rude’s tongue dive into his mouth and he moans, sucking on it as he moves faster. “Fuck, I need,” Reno gasps, even though he doesn’t know what it is he needs.

Rude anticipates it, his hand at Reno’s hip moving inward. The feeling of his hand through his slacks makes him moan again, louder this time. “Please,” he whines, and then feels him open his pants. Reno leans back, has to watch as Rude slides his hand into the Y-front of Reno’s briefs to pull out his hard dick. 

“Look at you,” Rude rumbles, and then wraps his hand around it. Reno closes his eyes before he crosses them. The feeling is almost overwhelming, but it’s so unfamiliar it’s hard to find a comfortable rhythm. Reno’s arm shoots out to the couch back to hold himself up, his thighs tightening to raise himself off of the other’s lap. Rude’s hand tightens as it moves, and it’s glorious. Reno wants to choke on the feeling. His head falls forward against Rude’s shoulder, dropping back down to rut against him.

Reno is mostly surprised he hasn’t cum immediately. It’s been so long, and to have someone else like this touch him should have been the key to just exploding right away. But Rude keeps his hand on him, consistently stroking as the head pokes out between his fingers. Reno makes an impatient groan. “C’mon,” he hisses.

“Sh,” Rude whispers close to his ear. “Don’t rush it. Doesn’t it feel good to just have me touch you this way?”

“I wanna cum,” Reno says, and he’s whining again. He doesn’t even care. “I wanna cum now.” Rude’s hand moves faster, and the desire tightens in Reno’s spine. “Hurry up, make me cum. Hurry up!”

“Don’t overthink it, either,” Rude purrs, his free hand sliding up his back and cupping his neck. “We have all the time in the world, and you feel so good in my hand.”

The words make Reno’s cheeks burn, but the frustration is burning behind his eyes more than Rude’s sweet nothings. He can’t believe he hasn’t just sprayed everywhere. He was full blown hard, has years of cum backed up, has Rude’s hand on him. He must actually be broken. One erection and he can’t even get anything out of it. Oh, shit, his eyes sting.

“Reno, look at me,” Rude whispers, and Reno’s eyes open suddenly, tears falling out of them.

He’s limp.

“F-fuck,” Reno hisses, trying to free himself, but Rude has got to be superhuman. He tucks Reno back into his briefs and then is pressing him close in a hug, and this way Reno can at least let the stupid tears fall down without being _looked_ at. He chokes out an apology.

Rude shushes him, just holds him tightly without asking. And it’s nice. It’s not what Reno wanted — he wanted to spray cum until he died of dehydration — but in lieu of that, this is an acceptable alternative. Reno _wants_ to crawl into a hole and never come out, but he has a feeling Rude won’t let him, that bastard.

“That was a huge improvement,” Rude hums, hands stroking over Reno’s back.

Reno jerks back then to stare at him in horror. “That shitshow?” he balks.

“Reno,” Rude says softly. His fingers slide up through the back of Reno’s hair, the ticklish fingertips now soothing. “You got hard. From me touching you. That’s huge. Don’t feel bad about that.” He pulls him forward so that Rude can place a kiss on his cheek, and Reno’s nose wrinkles as a way to keep himself from pouting again.

“First boner in forever that’s not just morning wood,” Reno grumbles, letting his face slide away from Rude’s until his forehead is back on his shoulder. The nice thing is, Rude’s cock — which had felt _so_ good under him, warm and alive — has softened as well. Rude hasn’t even mentioned it.

Rude hums as his fingers draw lightly over Reno’s back. “Maybe we could try an unconventional approach,” he says.

“Oh, yeah, this whole thing is _real_ conventional, chief,” Reno mutters.

“What if we slept together?” Rude asks.

Reno is quiet with disbelief. “Uhh, your answer to ‘how to give me an orgasm’ is ‘why don’t we fuck’?”

Rude is quiet with disbelief, now, until his whole body starts shaking with laughter. One hand drops to playfully swat Reno on the back. “I mean sleep. In a bed. Sleep. Wake up together when you’re already relaxed, don’t have to think about anything while I stroke you off. Just taking care of your natural inclinations.”

Reno has to admit, the playful smack has his lips trembling into a grin. “You don’t get to know where I live.”

“We could do it here. On a weekend,” Rude says, his chuckles finally dying down. “We can order in, watch a few more of those bad action films…”

“Pass on that part. I already watched the whole series,” Reno says. “But maybe some space opera or something.”

Rude’s hand freezes on Reno’s back, and then slides down to just wrap around his waist. “You watched them all?”

Reno does _not_ lift his head from Rude’s shoulder. “Just good brainless entertainment, is all,” he says softly.

“I see,” Rude says. He turns his head so that his lips are close to Reno’s ear. “So? Do you want to?”

“Like an extra session?” Reno says.

“Sure. Could just come here in the evening on Friday.”

Reno sighs, letting himself sit up. He lets his eyes settle on Rude’s, and then look at each other in silence for a good twenty seconds, before Reno nods. “Okay. But what if I don’t cum then?”

Rude shrugs. “Then we’ll try something else next time. Don’t give up. It’s my pleasure to help you, Reno. And we’ll get you there. You’re half way there already.”

Reno nods. “Can I stay here until time’s up?”

Rude’s expression grows tender, and Reno doesn’t need to hear anything else to know he’s not moving.

* * *

It’s weird to bring a go bag to some boring office building that’s off the beaten path, and yet here he is. First time showing up to an appointment with the surrogate partner in casual clothes. The t-shirt is ratty and so old it’s not black any more, but dark gray; the jeans are worn through in one knee; the shoes are dirty yellow and black converse, one untied; and he’s got sunglasses of his own, big reflective aviators. His little black backpack has some basics: toothbrush, hairbrush, underwear, socks, a second t-shirt. Face wash, razor, aftershave. Inexplicably, granola bars too.

He almost brought beers over until he remembered _This is not a date, Reno_. Best to treat it like a raunchy slumber party.

Hence, granola bars.

He crammed his work laptop in there too, knowing he had a few last things to finish up, but that was optimistic at best.

Rude is still dressed like his day job is actually being an accountant in his crisp dress shirt and tie, though the sunglasses are missing. His mouth works for a moment when he sees Reno, and then just smiles and steps aside.

“I know. Not my usual look,” Reno says, rolling his eyes.

“This fits you better,” Rude says, and takes Reno’s bag as he slides it off his shoulder.

Reno glances back at him, wondering if such a thing would be considered a fond observation, but Rude is already hanging the bag up on a hook in the open bedroom door. The overhead lights aren’t on, but instead most of the lamps offer a soft glow that makes Reno feel a little more at home. Like it’s a swanky hotel, or something.

Rude sits down on the couch and pats the seat next to him, and Reno is drawn in like a puppy who knows there’s a treat waiting. He settles into the cushion next to him and bumps his knee against Rude’s. “So what’s the plan?”

“That’s what I’d like to talk to you about,” Rude says, and slides his arm over Reno’s shoulders. “It occurred to me, a little too late, that a foreign place like this might make it hard for you to relax—”

“Nah,” Reno says, and this time it’s no bravado. “I joined the military the second I turned 18 to get off the street. And if you had trouble sleeping before, they beat it into you — metaphorically, don’t gimme that look, smart ass — to be able to get what sleep you can the second you lean your camo clad ass on a flat surface.”

Rude’s expression is unreadable, but Reno chooses to believe he’s charmed Rude by brute force. “Question number one answered,” Rude says wryly, and he grins. “Number two, do you want me to wait until you’re fully awake before I touch you? Most of the time I would never consider it unless you were, but the circumstances of this is to keep you… Relaxed. Keep that wheel from squeaking.”

Reno exhales slowly. He’s been doing this with Rude for almost two months. That’s a long time for a long con, to lure him in and do something unsavory with his body in his sleep. “I don’t know how,” Reno says, “but for some reason I trust you.”

“Your employers in the ‘state department’ know my name and address, Reno. If anything happens to you on my watch, I feel like I’ll _disappear indefinitely_.”

Reno’s lips spread into a slow smirk. That little dawning realization does give him a rush of power that he doesn’t expect. “Okay,” he says. “Trust confirmed. You can touch me when I sleep, just… You know.” His eyes dart away from Rude’s. “Make sure I’m awake for…”

“What a waste otherwise,” Rude agrees, his grin much smaller but just as amused. “Now, what do we get for food?”

The time is passed easily, talking about Rude’s art collection and his tendency to go on gallery strolls and buy local artists’ work, about Reno’s failed attempts at yoga to ‘calm down’, about Reno’s ability to cook (but not well). When their dinner arrives, Rude sets them up at the coffee table and they eat in companionable silence. The food seems to have given Reno a second burst of nervous energy, and he ends up snooping more. Rude lets him, so Reno opens up cabinets in the main room to find pamphlets and boxes of unopened condoms and dental dams. Reno thinks back to the first appointment, where he’d agreed to get comprehensive STD testing done and signed off on it. Rude had done the same. He wonders if he’s seeing other clients and feels an unfamiliar pit in his stomach at the thought. “Dental dams too?” he asks, trying to sound snarky. “You always eat out through a garbage bag?”

“Not everyone’s panels come back squeaky clean,” Rude says from the couch. He’s eased back into it, his shirt open at the top, the tie gone, his belt hanging on the same hook as his suit jacket. He’s got a book open — some kind of detective novel — and looks comfortable. Reno gets a sense of desire to see him more like this. Unbothered by Reno, just spending his own quality time doing — whatever.

“Are you uh… Booked up?” Reno asks, and then winces at how stupid that sounds.

Rude looks up at him then, lifting the paperback. “Do you mean, am I busy reading?”

“I meant, do you have other clients the rest of the days of the week,” Reno says in a small voice.

Rude’s lips twitch into as soft smile. “No. One at a time. Last thing I want to do is get confused and call Betty by yesterday’s appointment name.”

Reno closes the cabinet and feels a sense of peace at that. “Alright,” he says, and steps into the bedroom. “What else ya got?”

He hears Rude’s amused huff as he pushes himself off the couch and follows him. There are even more drawers in here, and he doubts it’s all Rude’s clothes. Reno wants to open up some of the dressers and look inside, but he keeps getting distracted by Rude, who’s thrown his book on the bed and is stripping out of his clothes. He didn’t say anything about… Doing anything yet…

When Rude slides out of his slacks and stands there in aubergine boxer briefs, Reno feels his mouth go dry at the full view of his muscular ass and thighs. Rude bends over to pick up a duffle bag and pull out pajamas, and Reno’s amused disappointment grows as he watches Rude re-dress in soft black pajama pants. He even pulls on a black tee in t he same soft looking fabric, and Reno has to admit he’s compelled to touch it.

Rude simply flips on the bedside table light, hops into the bed and leans against the headboard, crosses his bare feet, and picks the book back up.

It’s profoundly normal behavior, and it makes Reno comfortable. But it also makes him want to experience this more than once, which… Is probably not going to happen, so he savors this. “Is it okay if I uh, bother you while you read?” Reno asks.

“You’re not bothering me,” Rude says.

“Remember you said that,” Reno teases, but Rude just lifts an eyebrow at him that makes his legs feel weak.

Instead he turns back to the drawers and opens them, and it’s true: there’s no clothes in here. The first drawer is more condoms, unsurprisingly; the second has bunch of unopened boxes, all with little silicon vibrators displayed on the boxes. Next to them are much larger boxes with the iconic Magic Wand vibrators visible, and Reno gets a strangely funny image of Rude reading a book and holding the vibrator to a lady while she just gets off from the sight of him holding a book.

Not that. That does anything for Reno. He shakes his head to clear the mental image away, and then moves to the next drawer. There are containers, only these are zipped up cloth ‘bags’, like the kind that hold fancy electric shavers. He glances over his shoulder, afraid he’s going to get chastised, but unzips one anyway and discovers a set of weird, flat rods with flat bases, from a thickness to the size of a pinky finger all the way up to a little wider than Reno’s own dick.

“The hell are these?” Reno asks, holding up the set. “Goldilocks’ dildos?”

Rude glances up at him. “Dilator wand sets,” he says. “I keep a couple different brands for people to look at and touch before they buy their own. We don’t reuse those kinds of things, but I want them to know the kind of materials they’re going to be sticking inside.”

“Dilators for _what_?” Reno asks, and feels his own ass clench up at the idea of having to be expanded with the damn things.

“A lot of the women I see have vaginismus,” Rude says, shutting the book on his thumb. “And proceeding with sex isn’t possible if it causes anyone pain. These help them slowly get adjusted to a broader diameter until we can try a more organic approach.”

“You mean the baseball bat you’re packin’ down there?” Reno chuffs.

Rude is smirking at him, but Reno can see it: his ears turn red. He’s blushing. It makes Reno’s stomach do flip flops. “Yes, Reno.” He shrugs. “Just means I have to be that much better at my job.”

That response makes his thighs press together. “Do uh,” he starts, and then stops, zipping the kit back up and putting it back in the drawer. He doesn’t really know if he wants to answer that question. Rude hums at him, but Reno just moves to the final drawer in this dresser and feels his cheeks get a nuclear-grade glow.

Disposable enema kits, and packaged butt plugs in varying sizes, mostly slim, all with little flares at the bases. Several more dilator kits he just saw are in this drawer, too.

That answers _that_ question.

Reno turns back to the bed to see Rude watching him instead of reading, and Reno curses his pale skin for the noticeable blush. “You good?” Rude asks. Reno nods, and tries to laugh, but it comes out a little manic.

“Fine. Just think it’s funny that you’re — you’ve got PJs on and everything and I uh. I sleep naked, is all,” Reno says. It’s a lie about the blushing, but it’s also true, and realizes that he’ll be naked in the bed with Rude. “I get too hot.”

Rude grins at him. “I grew up in a much hotter climate. I get cold easily. Maybe we’ll even out the temperature.”

“Sure,” Reno says, and then goes to get his bag. “I’m gonna…clean up.”

Rude lets him go with no fanfare, and Reno can’t get over how nice it is to just be in his company. There’s no obligation to touch. He answers every question honestly. It makes Reno want to ask him embarrassing, deep-probing questions that knock him off kilter. Instead he just shoves his toothbrush in his mouth and disappears into the bathroom to go through his evening rituals.

When he returns, Rude’s book is on the bedside table and he’s pulled the t-shirt off. Reno feels a magnetic attraction, quickly hanging his bag back on the hook and walks until his knees bump into the bed. “What now?” he asks, and pretends it’s not breathless.

“If there’s anything you’d like to work on,” Rude says, spreading his hands, and Reno doesn’t answer. “Otherwise, I’d say we could lay together. Or play cards.” His eyebrow pops up. “Don’t exactly keep state of the art games in the office.”

“Cards,” Reno agrees, even as he’s ripping his t-shirt off his body. “But I’m wearin’ my pajamas.”

Rude smirks at him, and pulls out the kind of tray that you could use to put a laptop on, and a ratty old deck of cards from the bedside table. “No strip poker, then.”

Reno’s clothes end up in a pile on the floor by the bed, and then he dives in, stuffing his legs under the comforter and sheets and pleasantly surprised at the softness of it all. Of course he’d shell out the big bucks for nice sheets here, but it’s still a welcome, if unexpected, outcome.

They play cards until it’s Rude who yawns, and Reno grins at him. “Tired, old man?”

“It’s exhausting to keep up with you. Thank god we’re not playing actual poker,” Rude teases, and takes the cards to box them up. “I’d be in the poor house.”

“Yeah, well, we all got our talents,” Reno preens. He watches Rude remove the tray and cards, and then flip off the lamp. It becomes very dark, save for the city lights coming in through the window.

Rude settles down under the blankets, and it’s quiet for a moment before Rude asks, “Can I hold you?”

“Please,” Reno replies.

It’s annoying to Reno to feel like his body can slot into another person’s like a jigsaw puzzle, especially in this way. It’s not sexual, but…sensual. Rude’s arm shoved under a pillow under Reno’s head, his other wrapping around Reno’s ribs. Reno’s legs kicked out into a ‘4’ shape where he can tuck one leg between Rude’s and hold him in place. Rude’s scent filling his mind with warmth and security, his voice rumbling: “Good night.”

He’s out in minutes.

If he dreams, he doesn’t remember it. He feels weighed down by warmth, the hazy sensation of pleasure prickling between his thighs. The sensation dies down and he sinks back into sleep. It happens again, later, when there’s a bit of light in front of his closed eyelids. This time, he feels weighed down again but it’s because of an arm curled over his waist. Thick fingertips skate through the auburn hair below his navel, and a deep voice hums at his neck.

The fingers wrap around some part of him that feels so warm, he shoves his hips forward to feel it more. His body feels languid, sleepy, but the need to be touched is rapidly lighting up his senses. His eyes snap open and he sees light shifting in through the window. The white comforter. The movement of a hand under the blanket, giving him a hand job.

He chokes off a moan and shuts his eyes again. He has to let himself only focus on the feeling of how nice it is to be touched. His hips jerk backwards and he finds his bare ass pressed against a flannel-clad erection. This time it’s impossible to keep the moan from slipping out. He’s hard too, again. That’s hot. He can enjoy this.

And he does. He’s too tired to think about it too hard. Just lets himself enjoy Rude’s hand gliding up and down his cock with the perfect pressure. His lips part so he can breathe easier, but it makes it so every little noise comes out of him unbidden. Rude’s lips find his neck and sucks softly, and it’s so sexy that Reno knows he’s dripping pre-cum again. He can feel how wet it is to fuck Rude’s hand.

“Talk to me,” Reno rasps out. He’s afraid of his mind catching up now that the last vestiges of sleep have floated away from him, and all there is for him to focus on is his cock, hard and aching, and Rude’s big, constantly moving hand.

“Your body feels so good,” Rude murmurs, and his voice is still gravelly. It vibrates down Reno’s neck and sends shudders to his thighs. “You got so hard for me, and it’s so hot to touch you like this.” His mouth moves closer to Reno’s ear, not touching, but just quiet enough that it gives him full-body goosebumps. “I could stroke this cock all day, if you’d let me.”

Reno’s twitchy mind seems to short circuit at that. There’s nothing he has to do but lay there and Rude will gratefully touch him, slide his hand faster and tighter over his cock like he’s doing, just because he wants to. There doesn’t have to be anything else other than that. It’s a relief. It’s—

“Rude,” Reno chokes, and his body coils up tight as a knot. The pleasure is scratching deep, his balls feel so tight and full, and he doesn’t know if he can get there alone — but he’s not, and Rude’s hand chokes up at the head. Reno can hear it, the wet, fast stroking.

“Come for me,” Rude whispers, and Reno, miraculously, does. His whole body shoves back against Rude’s as his cock pulses, and it feels like huge stripes of it are spilling out of him, coating Rude’s hand. His eyes are squeezed so tightly that he sees bursts of color, the tingling spreading from his balls to his thighs and ass and wrapping back around. It feels so good that he keeps jerking forward into Rude’s hand until he gasps, his hand reaching down to slap repeatedly on Rude’s wrist.

“S-stop, t-too much, _oh_ ,” is all he can muster. Rude’s hand lets go of him and then presses against Reno’s stomach, pulling him into a tight hug. Reno’s mind is completely cloudy, and he knows he has a dumb smile on his face. He laughs until he chokes, and then he’s crying, and he’s not even upset. Rude just presses kisses to his neck and shoulders.

“Let it out,” Rude hums. “You’ve been holding in so much unhappy tension, just…”

Reno does, for long enough that he tips his head back against Rude’s shoulder. “I’m s-so sick,” he chokes, “of _crying_ in _front of you_.”

Rude snorts out a little laugh. “I didn’t see anything. Just felt a pretty stellar orgasm, though.” His hand frees itself from the confines of the blanket, and it’s slimy. Reno chuckles. “Let me get you cleaned up,” Rude says, and then he’s out of the bed a moment later.

Reno’s tears dry up into dumb laughter again. It wasn’t sad crying, just—some kind of tears that came out with nothing else associated. Like someone pulled a metal sliver out of his hand that he’d had in for so long that he didn’t know what it was like to not have it there. He flops onto his back, and a moment later, Rude returns with a damp towel.

“Let’s take you out for celebratory brunch. Breakfast. Whatever,” Rude says, and rolls the blanket down to see Reno’s pink cock softening in a pool of his own cum. He looks mighty self satisfied, and Reno sees the tips of Rude’s ears turn dark again. He’s getting good at reading him.

“Fancy French pastries,” Reno says, smiling. His eyes shut and he just luxuriates, letting Rude clean him off. “One of those places with 8 dollar coffees.”

“I know just the place,” Rude nods, and then takes the towel. “You want to shower or lay around?”

“Lay around,” Reno says with a lazy stretch, and curls over back into the blankets. Rude hums at him and then disappears — he assumes — to get in the shower. Reno’s whole body is too warm with pleasure and affection to move, even when he realizes how hard Rude had been, and how nothing had come from it (literally).

But honestly, all Reno can really think of an overpriced cafe au lait and kouign-amann, and Rude’s warm words that make heat pool in his stomach.


	5. In Space

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you LemonDropLan for the beta read!! <3

Reno’s hand tightens on the steering wheel at the sight of the billboard in shameless bright orange with white text:  _ YOU LIMP? New Treatment for E.D. Available. _ He shudders and stares back at the road, grateful as the stoplight turns to green.

He has to admit, if he hadn’t met the surrogate partner, he might have ended up calling that number eventually. It had been so long since he’d had any sort of relationship with his own dick that it felt like he was dating someone new.  _ Penis, meet Palmela. _

He’s able to get hard again, and he’s been trying to adjust to it. His conversation with Rude on Saturday morning had been a little spacey. Reno may have been gazing at Rude with a little too much softness that morning, and he had only been half listening, but he does remember being given  _ homework _ : Jerk off. “And don’t,” Rude had said, very clearly, “just associate this with me. Lots of stuff should be able to turn you on. Different people.”

Fine. Jerk off and don’t think about Rude should be an easy enough rule, right? Well, it ain’t working. He binged an entire fantasy series on Netflix about a gruff, white-haired hero and popped a boner the first time they showed his bare chest. The guy was hot. It was easy to be turned on by somebody like that. So Reno opened his pants, turned down the volume, and stroked himself to the thought of sitting on the main character’s lap. It felt good, but it couldn’t keep his interest for long. His erection flagged, until a deep voice at the back of his mind whispered, “Go on, don’t you want this?” His thoughts changed, naked above the hero, while a set of big brown hands landed on Reno’s chest to twist his nipples. “Don’t you wanna cum for me?”

Reno’s eyes had shot open and he swore, dropping his dick. Yes,  _ obviously _ he wanted to do that,  _ thank you _ , but Rude didn’t want Reno to think about him. So he tried to respect that. But that also meant a lot of aborted attempts. Even when he’d open porn he’d end up looking for a very specific body type, and the images, the sounds, didn’t excite his senses like he’d hoped.

It also meant that he was getting hard a lot. And it was  _ very _ inconvenient. At least he could hide a boner under a desk most of the time, but he’d had to excuse himself to the bathroom to try and quietly think of something cold and clammy until that voice would rumble around in his mind:  _ Quit torturing yourself. Just do it, already. _

It was the third time at work he’d had to deal with an erection fucking up his day, and so he gave up. He found the private bathroom on the 30th floor, locked the door, opened his pants, and thought of Rude.

Rude’s light grin, his broad, muscular shoulders and abs, and trim waist. His soft lips. His eyes, watching him. His hand on Reno’s cock, pumping. Rude would say nothing, just hovered above him, holding him, jerking him off. Maybe even getting creative with the thoughts: Rude kissing down to his navel. Rude’s mouth opening, lips about to slide over the head of—

“F- _ f-fuuck _ ,” Reno groaned, his legs spasming as cum shot out of him, hitting the toilet bowl but also the flusher and the seat. He felt his brain fizzle into pleasant, blessed silence, and he just decided that this one was allowed. Maybe if Rude knew how desperate he’d been, he’d allow for a little bit of it.

Now he’s on his way to the surrogate’s office. That glorious bit of ‘self maintenance’ had been two days prior. Since then he’d all but given up. It felt wrong to bring up images of Rude, and hell, he didn’t want to over do it. Maybe if he came too much he wouldn’t be able to cum at the appointments. With Rude actually, really touching him.

He groans as he pulls into the parking garage. He’s hard again.

“Give me a damn break, you prick,” Reno sighs, and then laughs at his own terrible joke. When he gets out of the car, he casually adjusts his dick under his waistband, shoulders out of his suit jacket and holds it over himself.

Rude suspects nothing when he pulls him in for their appointment, though his uncovered eyes are drawn very specifically to Reno’s face. “Afternoon, Reno,” he says, and reaches up for the tie. “I admit, I missed this step last time.”

Reno bites his lip so he doesn’t just moan like a whore. “You got some kinda tie fetish?”

“We’re not here to discuss  _ my _ fetishes,” Rude teases lightly, and takes Reno’s jacket from him. Reno is thankful Rude doesn’t even make eye contact as he turns to hang it up, and Reno quickly shuffles to the couch. He crosses his legs, foot at his knee, and hopes that it will be enough to hide anything amiss, like a hard-on that got worse when Rude told him he’d wanted to undress him last Saturday.

Wait, had Rude just said something about  _ his _ fetishes?

“So, we hit a pretty big goal,” Rude says, and is rolling up his sleeves. He must know he looks hot doing it. He sure does it a lot. Reno rests a hand on his thigh to try and disguise his problem, which makes it worse since a hand so close makes him just want to grope himself through his pants. Oh, shit, he’s still talking. “…next steps. It seems like you can handle touch a lot easier now, you’ve achieved orgasm, you’re…” Rude pauses, and the silence gets Reno to  _ really _ snap to attention. “…not listening to a word I’m saying.”

“I am!” Reno insists. His eyes jerk rapidly from Rude’s shoes up to his  _ belt buckle _ and then back up to his face, and then those exposed forearms. “Uh, I can touch a handle, and I got the orgasm achievement, right?”

Rude’s expression is wry and it’s melting Reno from the inside out. He’s not sure if it’s just the boner-goggles or what, but Reno is getting turned on by fucking everything. Then he sees Rude’s eyes shift into his lap, and Reno groans in embarrassment.

“Don’t gimme that look,” Reno says, knowing his cheeks are on fire.

“What look?” Rude asks. He joins him on the couch soon after, where he taps Reno’s jutting knee with a grin.

“You did this,” Reno huffs. “It’s a nuisance. I can’t get any work done ‘cause I’m constantly horny, but I can’t make it go away because.” He stops and chews on his bottom lip again. “Uh.”

Rude’s tone changes to annoyingly genuine. “Not been able to come on your own?”

“Not for lack of tryin’,” Reno says, and the scent of Rude’s cologne is mildly starting to fill his senses. His cock twitches. “I uh, have been trying to follow your suggested trajectory. But I think my brain just gets too busy.”

“Hard to think of things you like?” Rude asks.

Reno rolls his eyes. “I don’t even really know what that is, other than…” He presses his lips together.

“Well, let’s talk about that,” Rude says. “The last time I offered you the chance, you weren’t as able to, but… Are you interested in getting more comfortable with touching?”

“Pretty sure I’m very comfortable with you touching me,” Reno scoffs with a flushed grin.

“Ah, but I mean you touching  _ me _ ,” Rude says, and rests an arm on the back of the couch. He looks so good, he’s like a forbidden mirage. Untouchably good. “If you want to move forward with the goals of ‘being able to date someone’ you may need to feel more agreeable to mutual touching.”

Reno is quiet for a minute, and only half of that is because he’s staring at his partner like a centerfold. “So you want me to touch you while I’m um.” He glances away, only to see the outline of his erection pressed against his slacks. “While I’m tentin’ over here?”

Rude spreads his hands. “You may be more motivated by desire if you’re aroused. You don’t have to keep your pants on so nothing is  _ tented _ .”

Reno laughs. Rude knows how to suck the romance out of something like this and he’s still so horny for it that he doesn’t even care. “Sure, but can we do it now? I’m dyin’.”

They stand up together, and Rude pauses to kiss him. It’s short, but long enough that Reno feels his mouth still open and his heart skipping while he tries to follow after him into the bedroom.

Reno was given an out and he takes it: he’s stripping out of his clothes faster than Rude has a chance to tell him to stop. He steps right up to Rude and whips Rude’s expensive, silky tie off; yanks his shirt out from his slacks and works the buttons open.

“No rush,” Rude says. “This is the whole plan for today.”

Reno isn’t sure he likes that, but it doesn’t dampen his enthusiasm. He shoves the shirt off of Rude and then gets his hands on Rude’s broad belt buckle. “Why do you dress like this?” he asks, and forces himself to slow down as he very carefully slips one end of the belt out of the buckle. He lifts his eyes to meet Rude’s patient gaze.

“Dress like what?”

Reno pulls the prong out of the belt and then just holds either side of the now open belt, tugging Rude’s body closer to him. “Some days you look cozy & comfortable, and then others…” Reno’s thumbs slide over the fly of his slacks. “You have this ‘business assassin’ look going. There was a  _ jeweled tie pin _ in that tie, Rude.”

Rude smirks. “I’m a classy man, Reno.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Reno says, amusement lilting in his voice. He whips the belt out of his belt loops with an audible  _ zip! _ and steps back. “Take off your pants and get on the bed.”

Rude raises an eyebrow at him. “You’re in a mood, aren’t you?” Nevertheless, he obeys, toeing out of his footwear and then sidling out of his slacks. He’s only in those expensive looking black boxer briefs and his watch, and sits in the middle of the bed.

“Look, I just didn’t wanna take off your damn shoes,” Reno mutters, and places a hand on Rude’s chest to press him back into the bed. Rude goes easily, and Reno crawls after him until he’s hovering over him on all fours. He’s trying to appear confident instead of mildly apprehensive. God knows he likes it when Rude touches him, so why can’t he just…

He exhales, knees settling on either side of Rude’s hips, and then spends his time stroking over his shoulders and arms, then back up to his chest. Reno knows what he wants to do, and bends over far enough that he can graze his teeth lightly over a nipple. Feeling it harden under his mouth makes him moan, and he settles in to suck on it as his hands travel down to toy with the waistband of his briefs.

He wants this, he reminds himself, especially when he hears Rude let out the softest ‘nn’ sound as he sucks. Reno moves to the other nipple and abandons the top of the underwear to just stroke Rude’s (still) limp cock through the material. This is the only way he’s actually felt it under his hands before, and he wants to feel all that hot velvety skin under his fingers, hard and aching.

His ass settles lower on Rude’s hips, giving himself a bit more space to touch the other's body, which still felt foreign to him. His lips pop off of his chest so that he can sit up and peel the briefs down Rude’s thighs, effectively trapping him there. Rude is watching him with heavy lidded eyes, and it makes Reno’s aching erection twitch.

He wraps his left hand around Rude’s soft, big dick; he feels the weight of it in his hand. Even this touch seems to spark something in Rude, who shifts under him as it grows under his fingers. It’s slow, Reno’s not doing much, and he has a feeling the anticipation has more to do with it than anything he’s actually doing. He tightens his grip, moving his hand up and down; it’s coming to life under his touches and even though Rude is already a shower, it’s even bigger, thicker this way.

It feels good, velvety, and he has to get both hands on it, one on top of the other. Rude lets out a sigh of pleasure and Reno’s the one who accidentally moans. Pulling back the foreskin to show off the reddish purple glans has him feeling dizzy from desire. He readjusts his position so that he’s on either side of one of Rude’s legs, and Rude anticipates what he wants by raising his thigh enough for Reno to rub against it. Reno leans up to kiss Rude on the mouth, and Rude opens up easily under his tongue.

Rude responds to everything in some way; his tongue flicks against the tip of Reno’s, his hips shift subtly under his two-fisted strokes, his thigh undulates under Reno’s weight. Reno feels hot. He wants to do more, and bends to lick and suck on Rude’s neck, which earns him a barely restrained groan. He wants more noises like that, and pumps his hands faster as he moves down again, over collar bones and the rise of his pectorals and the ripples of his abs.

Reno feels like he’s on autopilot as he slides down Rude’s body, his balls dragging past Rude’s knee before he just pushes himself up to his knees.

“Reno, wait,” Rude whispers, but Reno barrels forward, presses his lips against the head of Rude’s cock, and freezes.

Flashes of discomfort, of choking, of swallowing, of gagging, of suffocating. Reno is off of him an in instant, throwing himself off the edge of the bed, his head nearly between his own knees.

“Reno—!” Rude says, quickly pushing himself up. Reno doesn’t even realize that he’s making ugly choking sounds until he feels Rude's hand on his shoulder. Nothing is poking him in the back. Nobody is pulling him back in. It’s just Rude, letting him know he’s there. “Do you need to throw up?”

Reno opens his eyes and realizes he’s drooling. He shuts his mouth and swallows hard. His cheeks are red and tingling, and his chest is aching. He doesn’t even need to look to know he’s gone soft. “Shit,” he whispers. “No. Not gonna puke.”

“Sorry, I tried to stop you—”

“No, I wanted. I wanted to,” Reno says. He moves his hand up to Rude’s and leans back into the warmth of him. Rude carefully slides either thigh around Reno and straddles him from behind, holding him. Reno’s head falls back on Rude’s shoulder. “I just… Forgot what happens.”

“You don’t ever have to do that, you know,” Rude murmurs. “Plenty of—”

“I said I wanted to,” Reno cuts him off, and lets out a shaky, furious sigh. “I just. Like I said. I don’t have any good associations with it. Just a lot of… Stuff I can barely even remember. It’s just bad. Bad feelings. It’s the same for…” Rude gives him a moment to think how to phrase it. “I wanna get fucked, too. I just… There’s baggage there, and I need…”

“If those are steadfast goals, of course I’ll help you,” Rude murmurs. He’s placing kisses over his shoulders, and it’s a pleasant comfort. “Maybe we can focus on getting you used to receiving oral. And when you’re familiar with that…” He trails off, tipping his head back to give Reno a little more space. “Then we can see about it again.”

“I used to be good at it,” Reno mumbles.

Rude hums in response, and Reno just enjoys the comfort he’s soaking up his partner. The unpleasant feelings die down until all that’s left is the faint memory, like an aftertaste he can’t wash away. “Why do I keep wasting good hard-ons like this?” he moans.

Rude’s nose is in his hair, and Reno feels goosebumps prick up under Rude’s nuzzling. “We can stop, but. If you like, I can focus on you for a while. Help you succeed in getting yourself off outside of our time here.”

Reno snorts. “You still wanna touch me after that?”

Rude’s arms squeeze him with enough pressure to pop a few of the negative feelings hovering in his periphery. “Of course I do.” His palms spread over Reno’s bare chest. “The best part of the job is knowing I’ve helped a person, buuut.” His voice is quiet, teasing. Confidential. “The second best is getting to touch such an attractive one.” Reno rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth is tipping up. “Such a gorgeous body. Such pretty cock. And don’t get me started on the freckles.”

Reno feels himself melting into the warm wall of Rude’s form. “Jeez, you sound desperate,” he teases, and Rude actually rumbles out a laugh at it. He scoots backwards, pulling Reno with him until he can press Reno’s back into the bed and hover above him; the position mirrors what they had going on earlier. Reno thinks back to his fantasy from the office bathroom and feels his breath catch.

Rude places a soft kiss on his lips, gazing down at him with warm eyes. “Can I touch you?”

Reno wants to shout his agreement, but his tremulous body only manages out an, “Okay.” Rude’s warm hands land on his chest, and his mouth finds its way to his neck; his thumb and forefingers rolling nipples, his mouth sucking on sensitive flesh with a hammering heartbeat underneath.

It’s frustrating to be so prone to whiplash. He had been so horny for an entire week; one wrong touch and it sent him in the opposite direction; another  _ good _ touch and he’s back wanting. His head is still a little fuzzy. He wants to say,  _ Slow down _ , except Rude is already slow. His nibbles never leave a mark, and instead just leave him aching for more. Only after Reno makes an  _ embarrassing _ whimper does Rude’s mouth move down, making a slippery trail to suck on already hard, pink nipples.

Whiplash, again. All Reno can think now is,  _ Hurry up _ .

Rude doesn’t hurry, though. The attention he’s lavishing on him is thorough. His fingertips trail ticklishly up and down his torso while the point of his tongue twists over the pebbled nub. Reno pushes himself up on his elbows and watches Rude move to the other nipple. His eyes meet Reno’s, and Reno swears there’s something there, something  _ more _ , but that’s just wishful thinking, he’s sure. He doesn’t even realize he’s hard until Rude’s fingertips skate over him, and he twitches hard in response. “Oh,” he breathes.

“Do you want me to touch you?” Rude murmurs against his chest.

“Uh huh.”

Rude’s fingers wrap around his cock and it’s  _ only _ good sensations, now: Rude shifting up so he can kiss Reno again, easier now that he’s sitting up. His hand glides over his cock with the same easy slowness he’s had about everything, but Reno wants more. His hips rut against his hand, screwing up the languid rhythm, and Rude chuckles softly against his lips. “More?”

The soles of Reno’s feet rub eagerly against the sheets, the heat and friction sparking up his legs. His fingers fist into the bedding, and he just nods, letting one more whimper pass his lips.

Rude gives him a ghost of a kiss. His words are hushed and deeply arousing. “Can I suck you?”

“ _ Yes _ ,” bubbles out of Reno before his brain has a chance to catch up. Rude’s hand strokes him faster a reward, and Reno nearly falls back into the bed completely. But he is determined to watch, and does as Rude’s face moves back down his body.

Rude releases his dick, and it makes an embarrassing slap against his own flesh. He’s so hard, and Rude is so  _ big _ and  _ tan _ and god, he looks  _ hungry _ for it, which is just unfair. But all he does at first is nuzzle his cock, let his lips make soft, but dry-mouthed kisses at the base and against his hips. Reno, for once, has nothing in his mind. He has tunnel vision for the lips that part and have a broad pink tongue slide out; for the slow, wet drag of it up to the tip of his need. To the glide of moist lips over the glans, and then the entire head.

He forgets to breathe. He doesn’t want to. It’ll be too loud, and then he’ll miss the quiet slurping noise of Rude’s lips moving over the head, covering his teeth. It’s pure wet heat, not even any pressure, and it feels  _ so _ good. He wants to feel this sensation for hours. He wants to be wrapped up in those wet lips, feel his cock aching until Rude maybe even takes him further—

“Sh-shit,” Reno gasps, his only warning, and he’s coming. Rude pulls off and Reno watches in shock as his spunk shoots out hard, a stripe splattering on Rude’s cheek and past his ear, and the rest on Rude’s chin and neck and his knuckles, as his hand works him through the rest of it. His breath is coming in heavy pants, chest moving up and down as he stares down at Rude.

“Thanks for the warning,” Rude teases, and Reno knows he’s flushed dark red.

“Sorry,” he whispers.

There’s some kinda look on Rude’s face that Reno can’t interpret; it’s unfamiliar to him. His eyes have the quality of amusement and something else, some other, more primal feeling, but Reno can’t let himself hope. Instead he watches Rude slide off the bed and grab a hand towel to wipe the lines of cum off of his face and hands, and Reno sees he’s chubbed up again.

He wants to touch it. But he also doesn’t think he can, not tonight.

“Let me find something for you,” Rude says inexplicably, and then he’s digging into one of the dressers Reno hadn’t explored previously. He pulls out two small boxes, the size of those chocolate balls with prizes inside, and tosses them onto the bed. Reno tries to focus on what the items instead of having his gaze constantly flicker up to Rude’s half-hard cock. He struggles.

Finally he pushes himself up and grabs them. One is called a ‘Tenga Egg’, and he wonders for a brief moment if it  _ is _ one of those candy balls. The other is a blank white box, and so he reaches for the labeled one first.

“Masturbatory aid,” Rude says. “It’s small, and you can just squeeze a little lube in there and use it with your hand. Maybe if you’re too focused on how good it feels intead of fantasizing…” He shrugs.

Reno presses his lips together in embarrassment. “And the other one?”

“I’d just call it a Mind Pacifier,” Rude says.

Reno lifts a suspicious eyebrow at him and opens the box. Inside is just a firm softly rounded chunk of black silicon about two inches in length, and an inch and a half high, with a flat base. He stares at it. “A binky.”

“Little bigger than that. Nicer texture. Feels much better to suck on. Takes biting pretty well, if you panic.”

Reno stares at it. “This feels kinky.”

Rude shrugs. “These are the kind of things that help people who need to constantly stimulate  _ something _ so they can pay attention more. But I’ve also found it can get you more comfortable with having a round, invasive thing in your mouth.”

Reno’s mood has improved enough that he’s able to smirk when he says, “I’m deeply suspicious of this reasoning.”

“You don’t  _ have _ to use either of them,” Rude says, and then looks for his boxers. “But they might help you.”

Reno gathers the boxes and nods. “More homework.”

“Try not to get used to biting that one too much,” Rude jokes.

“You’re the one giving me a chew toy to get used to a penis.”

“Just try it,” Rude teases, and then joins him on the bed again. Reno feels immediate warmth flood his chest when Rude’s arm slides around his back. “You might be surprised.”

As if he hasn’t stopped being surprised since he started coming to these appointments.

* * *

It takes three more sessions for Reno to handle  _ the act _ .

The  _ chew toy _ , as Reno has taken to calling it, has been an oddly liberating object. The first time he stuffs it into his mouth it’s… bland. Nothing triggers a terrible flashback or feeling. It's the kind of thing raver kids might chew on to save their meth-induced clenched jaws, rather than a thing that reminded him of choking, of—other more unpleasant memories. And so, he sticks it into his mouth fairly regularly.

The first time he has it in his mouth and jerks off is when that first feeling of ominous discomfort hovers beyond his periphery. He had been idly chewing on it before his hand stroked at himself through his pants, a subconscious movement inspired by his ever-wandering thoughts.

And then, a strange idea slips into his mind: swirling the tip of his tongue over the rounded head of the silicon pacifier. The act itself makes the blood rush south, the tiny point of pressure on his tongue causing a strangely arousing feedback loop. His squeezing becomes rough groping, until he’s shoving his fly open and wrapping his fingers tightly around himself.

He comes in five glorious minutes, his mind empty other than  _ feels good _ until he is staring at his messy chest. Then he just lets his mouth open, the pacifier slipping from his lips as a dumb laugh of satisfaction works its way out of his throat, deep and pleased.

It’s becoming easier for him to separate his thoughts of orgasm from thoughts or Rude. He’ll shower and suck on a wash rag while he jerks off, or stick the pacifier in his mouth and masturbate in bed until his thoughts feel weightless. He uses the egg masturbation toy until it’s shredded, and that only takes 6 times. After that, he doesn’t need it, though he admits he misses that slightly foreign tickling feeling.

The first session with Rude after that goes okay, and he’s able to make slow, hot kisses up the length of his partner’s cock and letting his tongue slide out over the slit before he freezes up and has to stop.

The second time he gets his mouth over the head of it and sucks it until that first drip of precum spreads in Reno’s mouth, and the taste causes him to have to stop.

Both times, Rude holds him, murmurs to him, strokes his arms and sides and legs and then descends on him. Now that Reno  _ can _ orgasm, Rude makes it a part of his appointed duties to get him there. And Reno can’t help but notice the distinct flush across the bridge of Rude’s nose, the heavy eyes, the insistent slurps; Rude is enjoying it. If his frequently wasted erections have shown.

Reno always makes a reach for him again afterwards, but Rude shushes him and swats his hand. “This is about you,” he insists, and Reno’s starting to resent it.

This time, Reno knows he can do it. He’s psyched himself up. He’s sucked his own — unpleasantly sour, thanks — cum off his fingers. The taste didn’t make him panic, just grimace.

So, on top of buying a liter of pineapple juice, he’s emotionally setting himself up for success when he strides through Rude’s office door.

At this point, there’s a routine to it: Rude asking him about his day while he undresses him down to his waist. Reno doing much the same as he pushes Rude back towards the enormous couch. Rude gives him a little smile when Reno’s shove becomes a little harder, sending him down onto the cushions.

“Forward, aren’t we?” Rude hums.

Reno stands between his knees as he works his own belt and pants open and off. “I’m gettin’ what I want, today.”

“Reno, there’s still no rush,” Rude says, and Reno feels the heat of his gaze slide over his nude body. “We’re not going to push too hard—”

Free of all his clothes Reno straddles Rude’s lap, his elbows coming up to Rude’s shoulders so that his long, slim fingers can cradle the back of Rude's head. “I want to do this,” he whispers, and manages to keep the  _ For you _ from passing his lips by pressing them against Rude’s. The act of it feels like white noise blanketing over Reno’s busy mind, only able to hear the swipe of tongues and the shifting of their weight on squeaking leather cushions.

Reno’s lips drag to the corner of his mouth so that he can murmur, “Touch me.” Rude does, reaching forward with his right hand to curl around Reno’s already stiff cock. It’s been a wonder to realize how quickly Reno is capable of getting aroused, and whenever Rude touches him, he comes alive, and Rude can’t seem to help himself, either: his hand moves quicker than it should, eager to bring Reno to that point of pleasure.

“Want me to—slow down?” Rude whispers.

Reno pulls back to gaze at him even as his hips roll on Rude’s tented pants. He reaches for Rude’s free hand, gripped soundly to Reno’s hip, and brings it to his mouth.

Rude’s fingers are thick, so he only fits the index and middle into his mouth, but they feel amazing against Reno’s tongue. He can’t help but moan, sucking on them hard, his tongue twirling between them and then twisting over the tips.

Rude’s mouth is half open, staring, and his other hand is stroking Reno so fast that it’s painfully easy for Reno to cum all over his hand and bare belly. Reno feels drunk on the feeling, and lets the wet digits slide out of his mouth.

“Let me suck you off,” Reno says, his voice gravelly with desire, and Rude blinks at him with dilated pupils. Reno doesn’t give him a chance to say much else as he slides off of his thighs and ends up kneeling on the floor. His hands work to open Rude’s slacks, though he makes a mess of it, stopping to stroke him through the material. “I’ve never managed, not with you.” He leans over his lap and finally gets the fly undone so he can yank both trousers and briefs down to his thighs. “I’ve never seen you cum.”

Rude’s breath is rapid and sharp, like he’s trying to gain control. His fingers — the ones that had been in Reno’s mouth — card through his red hair. “None of this is about me.”

When Reno gets his mouth on the head of his cock, it feels good. It’s sending those synapses in his brain that reminds him of the toy, of getting himself off. Both of his hands rise, one to stroke Rude and the other to press him back into the sofa.

“That’s good,” Rude whispers, even though for Reno this feels like he’s trying to convince himself. “You’re doing well.” Reno is more than aware of that. He was a goddamn professional back in the day. He’s trying to separate  _ that _ from  _ this _ ,  _ then _ from  _ now _ . The more Rude talks, the harder it is, so he instead tries to tune him out as Reno’s mouth moves over him with increasing speed. Rude’s cock feels enormous, yet the urge to swallow him entirely is buzzing around in the back of his mind. That’s what he’s  _ supposed _ to do, after all.

He can hear Rude murmuring at him, but all Reno hears is the sexy, deep drone of his voice. He’s in a post-orgasmic haze. He wants to prove that he’s good, and worthy of being  _ Fixed _ . That he knows he needed it, and is prepared to pay it back in full for all the work that’s been put into him the past two and a half months. Rude’s never gotten off.

The ambient noise of his slurping and the sound of a cock pressing into the back of his throat, is all he can hear. He’s sucking Rude deeper, faster; fucking him with his whole mouth, the way he knew worked wonders. He feels Rude’s fingers tighten in his hair, hears his voice grow in increasing urgency, tastes the salty burst of precum every time he withdraws far enough to taste the head. He wants to know what Rude’s telling him, wants to hear the praise, and instead hears desperation: “Reno, please—stop! Ahh—fuck, stop.”

His mouth is off of him an instant, even as his hand moves into autopilot to finish jerking him off. Rude’s voice chokes off into nothing and Reno feels it first more than sees it as thick lines of semen shoot over his chin and neck and collar bones.

Rude’s fingers loosen in his hair and Reno seems suddenly more aware of what he’s done. The sticky texture on his neck makes him feel suffocated — or maybe that’s just the raw tenderness in his throat. His eyes widen. “I thought…”

Rude looks fucked up in a way Reno can barely parse. Like he’d just cum so hard at the sight of a gruesome display. His pupils are still blown wide, his breathing is labored, but his eyebrows are drawn up in the center. “Reno, come up here.”

Reno pushes himself to standing; he shakes his head a bit to clear it and settles back onto Rude’s lap. His cock — hard, again — juts against Rude’s navel. “Sorry,” he whispers. “I uh…”

“Are you okay?” Rude asks instead, and has Reno’s face in his hand a moment later. He’s wiping the cum off on his own shirt and then tossing it back onto the couch. “What happened?”

“I wanted you to get off,” Reno mumbles, and then, “and I may have gone on autopilot.”

Rude tosses the soiled shirt aside. “I asked you to stop, and even then…”

“Didn’t you wanna cum?” Reno says in mild disbelief. Sure, he’d maybe dredged up a little ancient history to make it work, and sure, he’d tuned out Rude a  _ tiny  _ bit, but…

“I will always respect your needs, Reno,” Rude says. His voice is hushed, and Reno feels like he’s trying to hide the satisfied undertone. “And I will respect your boundaries. Your limits. But if I’m to do that, I need you…” Rude’s hands drop away from him, falling limply to his sides. “I need you to respect my boundaries, too.  _ My _ limits.”

Reno’s stomach clenches. “I didn’t mean…”

“I don’t want any of my pleasure to be derived from pain, Reno,” he whispers.

“I wasn’t,” Reno says. “I wanted to. Wanted…you.” His dick’s softened. The conversation has a strange edge to it that’s put him ill at ease.

“Were you here? Or somewhere else?” Rude asks.

Reno’s mouth opens. It works. He closes it again, and turns away. “I’m sorry.” It’s awkward, doing this while he’s still straddled across Rude’s naked thighs. But Rude’s arms come up then, hands landing on his back and pulling him in for a hug.

“Don’t apologize. I shouldn’t have let it get to this. Should have slowed it down before it got to this.”

Reno feels his cheeks burn with embarrassment. He’s kind of tired of being the one in distress, and yet it’s hard to avoid the truth that he’d let himself fall into that kind of mindset. ‘Get them off at all costs,’ shouldn’t be stuck in his mind for this. He exhales slowly. “Is that it, then?”

“For today? Certainly,” Rude murmurs.

“For…today?” Reno asks. A laugh of disbelief squeezes out of him. “You still want to try and fix this after I’ve… violated you?”

Rude’s cheeks actually turn red and Reno memorizes the look on his face, in case he never gets to see it again. It seems profoundly secret. “You haven’t  _ violated _ me, I just. I wasn’t ready to…” He trails off, and Reno feels the sting of shame twisted up with the desire to know exactly how he was going to finish that sentence. A needle of curiosity, poking at him. “Either way, it may be pertinent to move on to something else that won’t get your mind in a  _ performative _ state.”

“I’m a show off at heart,” Reno says immediately, eyebrows drawing down. “I’m always performin’, Rude. I’m sorry that I didn’t listen to you but I swear. Nothing I just did came from a place of… dislike, okay?” He sits back, folding his arms. He wants to feel uncomfortable so naked, except that Rude is in an almost worse state with his pants around his knees. “Just trust me to take care of your boundaries the way you do mine. I… I needed a new memory.” He chews on his lip. “Somethin’ that was just for me.”

Rude stares at him, and the gaze is hard for a long time before it softens in begrudged understanding. “Let’s negotiate that beforehand, next time?” he asks.

Reno nods, and lets himself fall forward into Rude’s chest. He stays there the rest of the appointment, quiet save for the sound of his fingers sliding over Rude’s as they sit with hands entwined.


	6. Poor Leno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> content warning for casual enema chat (no, I won't make you read anything Gross lol)

“I’ve seen so much improvement. How are you feeling? Emotionally?”

Reno stares at his fingers. “Okay,” he says, tasting the blandness of that statement, but it’s true. He’s _okay_. He can touch people. And he can touch Rude. And get off. There’s just a lot of other thoughts that meander through his mind, like: _What then?_

“It’s been several months. Do you feel a strong sense of attachment to him?”

 _What are you, stupid_? Reno looks up at Dr. G and can see the compassion on her face. Like she knows what a guy like this does, and how he makes them feel. “Kinda,” he says.

She nods. “Well, when your time with him ends, we’ll make sure you have an easy time of it.”

The rest of the session is drowned out by that thought: _when your time with him ends…_

Every time Reno feels anxious about returning to Rude, it usually stems from what happened at the previous appointment. And he still feels a ball of anxiety roll around in his stomach for making Rude tell him ‘no’, but now it’s layered on top of that feeling of impermanence. Rude is the sand in the hourglass, slowly slipping past, and once it’s gone… Someone else will be flipping that clock.

It’s hard to imagine someone else in the office with Rude. Sitting on his lap on that couch, or curled under the expensive white sheets of the bed. He knows it happens. It happens a lot, enough for him to have a well known practice, a list of colleague therapists, and a website with a lot of five star (explicit) reviews that Reno _may_ have gone looking for in a fit of obsession that left him feeling clammy.

He shows up at Rude’s door, knuckles brushing the _Please knock!_ sign with a kind of nostalgic whimsy. Rude opens it and brings him in, and Reno can’t meet his gaze. Even as Rude’s fingers carefully pull the knot loose on Reno’s tie and he unfastens those top two buttons for him.

“You’re upset,” Rude says quietly.

Reno tries not to groan in frustration. Of course the man is just going to be able to read him like a ten step pamphlet. “I made shit weird last time,” he says. It’s the only way he gets through a lot of these sessions: half truths, or misdirected reasoning. It’s not _lying_. But it’s not being entirely honest, either.

“Is that what this is about?” Rude asks, and Reno still can’t look at him. He knows how deep those eyes go and he’s not ready to fall under that spell so soon. “All things considered, you handled it very well. And apologized at least three times.” Rude’s voice is twisting with a flavor of amusement. He’s trying to turn the conversation light hearted. Reno hates how good he is at this. “And we have new ground to cover, today.”

Reno looks up at him then, and immediately sees how caring Rude’s eyes are. It makes the weariness in Reno’s chest ease away.

“You mean fuckin’ me in the ass,” he says. It’s so blasé that Rude struggles to hold back a laugh, a choking noise gathering in his throat.

“Always challenging my professionalism,” Rude teases. “That’s the final bit we have to get you used to. But… What are your interests for that? Do you want to fuck me, as well?”

Reno can’t help but flush dark red at that. “No,” he says, very quickly and assuredly. “I don’t need help with—with that.”

Rude’s expression is neutral; no relief or regret at Reno’s choices. He simply nods. “And anal sex is where the majority of your trauma lies?”

Reno is quiet. He chews on his lip, shoves his hands in his pockets. “I guess,” he admits softly.

“I’d like to reintroduce you to it. Slowly. We can start off with something that only emphasizes the pleasure in all the nerve endings around the anus—”

“Listen, professor, do you really gotta say it like that?”

Rude pulls Reno into a hug with an amused sound. “I want to lick your ass, because it will feel real good.”

Reno can’t help it. He recoils. “So _that’s_ why you’ve got the fuckin’ sex trash bags,” he says. Rude’s eyes narrow just a titch at him, annoyed at the terminology, but not correcting him.

“Once again, I try to be safe, but we do not have to include a _dental dam_ ,” Rude corrects. “However, if you’re worried about cleanliness, not only do I have a shower, and a heated bidet, but kits for that sort of thing, too.”

Reno’s ears feel as hot as if he has a winter hat on. He remembers the enema kits just fine. “How do you even…?”

“Want me to show you?” Rude asks, and Reno stares at him. His mouth might be open. “I don’t mean a literal up-your-ass demonstration,” he adds, and damn the man, Rude is smirking at him. But Reno still hasn’t answered. “You’ve never used one? Even…?”

“Nah. I didn’t eat enough for to really be a problem. Back then,” Reno says. He folds his arms, self conscious.

Rude doesn’t make a face at him, simply nods and guides him back into the bedroom. He opens the dresser drawer that had all the _butt stuff_ in it, and Reno tries to stay calm when Rude pulls out the small green and white box. “It’s pretty self explanatory. There’s instructions inside. ”

Reno holds out his hand tentatively for it, and Rude passes it over for Reno to take in the strangely intimidating box.

"You don’t ever have to use this, to be fair, Reno,” Rude says. “These are only options for increasing your own comfort. What would you like?”

Reno’s glad he has the box in his hands so that he can fidget with it, though he doesn’t necessarily want to look at the contents. “People say…” He presses his lips together, and feels embarrassed. Saying this feels more embarrassing than holding a single use enema kit. “People say it feels good. To get fucked. And um. I’d like if I could find out what that’s like.”

Rude reaches for him, his broad hand settling on Reno’s shoulder. It’s a strange touch; friendly and reassuring, instead of seductive. It’s not familiar to him, at least not from Rude. It makes the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. “Are you comfortable with me touching you there?” he asks. Rude steps closer, and the seduction is back. “What can I do to help?”

“Still feels kinda dirty,” Reno admits. “Maybe, in the shower?”

Rude’s forehead presses against Reno’s. “You want to shower together?”

Reno’s mind feels dizzy when Rude does this to him. Makes him forget his discomfort, emphasizes that what Reno wants is good. The breath puffs out of him nervously. “Yes, please.”

The shower steams up fast, and that helps Reno’s busy mind. He likes it when they’re both vulnerable and naked like this; when the sound of running water drowns out the need to chit-chat. Rude has some new bar of artisan soap and has Reno’s back pulled flush to his chest as he lathers up the front of his body. Reno can only focus on the good feelings: the warmth, the slide of their bodies, the texture of Rude’s nipples on his back, his (limp) dick brushing Reno’s thighs.

Reno feels the tension in his neck and shoulders soften, just as Rude walks him forward to a wall. He steps back so that he can soap up his back now, too, and Reno lets his head sag as his palms press against the stone walls.

His ass only clenches a little when the bar of soap slides between the cheeks, and then moves down to his thighs. “We don’t have to,” Rude says, and his voice is directly behind Reno’s ear. Reno’s body breaks out in goosebumps. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

Reno tries to laugh, but it comes out tremulous. He’s shivering from a combination of repressed desire and nerves, and he needs the safety of Rude’s body. He presses back against him, feeling the water rinse away the soap. “I want it. I don’t know why I’m so…”

Rude turns him in his arms. They face each other, and Reno feels embarrassment heat up his face, but Rude just strokes his big hands over his back and ass. He grabs a hand full of each cheek and spreads it just a bit against the water. Reno lets out a gasp, and Rude dips his head down to kiss him. “Why don’t I suck you off, instead?”

Reno could almost guess that Rude enjoys the act, which always bolsters Reno’s often wavering ego. “Yeah, okay,” he agrees, and Rude is walking him backwards. After just a few steps his back is pressed against the moist, but warm wall, and Rude is sinking to his knees.

Reno thanks whatever gods are out there that it’s a little more uncomfortable to stand up and get blown, because the view from this angle would have set him off had he been reclining back into a bed. It’s bad enough that Rude’s expression looks blissful, but the sight of Rude’s hard cock jutting out close to his knees is painfully good, too.

Now he’s not quite sure what he was so nervous about.

Rude takes him in his mouth with easy, repetitive pressure. Steam rolls around at the floor of the shower as the hot water pounds the tiles. Rude pulls off, reaching to stroke him and then getting his mouth on his balls.

Reno flinches, if only because he’s so sensitive. Rude pauses, but Reno shakes his head with a moan. “No, keep goin’, c’mon.”

And so Rude smothers any smile as he sucks one ball into his mouth, and then the other, all while his hand twists over Reno’s hard shaft. It’s impressive to watch a guy that big look so into having a cock pressed close to his face with balls in his mouth.

“Wait,” Reno says, and decides for himself. He turns around, facing the wall, and juts his hips out.

The groan that Rude makes causes pre-cum to twitch out of Reno. Rude’s voice practically rumbles between Reno’s cheeks. “Are you sure?”

“I’m clean, ain’t I?” Reno huffs, and is glad the stone is just cool enough to give his blushing face some relief. He’s even more grateful when he feels Rude’s hands settle on each ass cheek; his thumbs press close to his hole, only to spread them apart. Reno has never felt so exposed — as a happy, healthy adult, anyway — in his life.

“Tell me to stop,” Rude says, his voice pressing warm breaths against Reno’s hole, “and I will.”

“What if I tell you to _hurry up_ ,” Reno hisses, and he’s rewarded with Rude’s warm laugh and the odd feeling of a flat, wet tongue sliding from perineum to asshole.

It feels kinda good. The tension in his shoulders eases a sliver. Reno’s never had someone so deep within the intimate place like this; he’s been used, sure, but no one ever asked to do this to him. Rude’s tongue makes him feel an aroused kind of discomfort. He knows it feels good. He knows he’s clean, because Rude handled that personally. He’s pretty sure he wants this. And when the point of Rude’s tongue probes at him a little deeper, he feels his legs shake. “W-wait,” he whispers, again. Not _stop_. Rude hesitates, but doesn’t move away. “Don’t know how long I can stand up,” Reno admits, and he feels rather than hears Rude laugh against his flesh..

That feels kinda good, too.

“Want to move to the couch?” Rude asks, placing kisses now to his inner thighs and then pulling away completely. “The bed?”

Reno doesn’t even know what the best place for this is. He doesn’t know what position will be easiest for him to enjoy it, and he’s annoyed knowing it’s the one where he can’t see Rude clearly. “The bed,” he says, and turns himself back around to look at Rude down there with broad pupils and a wet mouth. What he really wants is to shove his dick back in there. “But I uh… I have one condition.”

Rude stands, rinses his face (sadly) in the water and then flips off the shower. “What is it?”

Reno decides to keep him on tenterhooks and says nothing. They dry off and move to the bedroom, where Reno carefully pulls the comforter back so he can wiggle down on hands and knees comfortably. His knees spread, and he suddenly feels _very_ open and exposed. A fleeting thought of _Danger!_ runs through his mind before it’s drowned promptly in _Sexy._

“Do you like this stuff?” Reno asks, softly. He lowers his shoulders and head down, but turns so that he’s not muffled into the sheets. It presses his ass even further up.

Rude’s voice is gruff, and even if he’d said ‘no’ it would have been an obvious lie. “I do,” he says.

“Does it turn you on?”

Reno feels the weight of the bed shift as Rude’s knees come in contact with the bed. Then his palms slide over Reno’s hips, causing him to tremble. “It does.”

“So jerk off while you do it,” Reno says. “When you’re gonna cum, then stop licking me and. Finish on me?”

Rude is quiet, save for the obvious hitched breath. Reno presses his smirk into the sheets. “This is about—”

“Me, I know,” Reno says, and lets his knees spread a little wider. His tone is almost teasing now. “And for me to relax and enjoy this, I wanna know you’re actually enjoying it, too.” He’s disappointed that he can’t see Rude’s face. Instead all he gets is Rude _moaning his name_ into his ass, and, well, that feels amazing enough to relax him even more.

The more Reno gets used to the sensation of licking in areas he’d basically pretended didn’t exist, the more he gets used to it — but the real changing factor is Rude’s pleasure broadcasting from behind. He doesn’t moan too often, but with his hand wrapped around his cock and his tongue flickering over Reno, he can’t seem to keep himself quiet. Reno basks in that knowledge. Just by being here in this bed, just by letting himself succumb to something good, that _he_ wants, he’s making his partner lose it.

It’s so hot that Reno wants to touch himself, but there’s something nice about just enjoying something pleasurable that _doesn’t_ end in an explosive climax. He doesn’t think he — or anyone, really — could cum from getting rimmed like this, but it’s starting to feel so soft and so good, he’s fine with that. Rude’s tongue is barely invasive, but even when it pushes past that ring of muscle for the first time, all Reno can focus on is the wet slap of Rude stroking his big cock. He relaxes even further.

“Fuck,” Rude whispers, and pulls back. Reno gives a soft whine before it turns into a full on gasp of surprise as Rude grabs his hip and flips him over. Reno sprawls onto his back, his legs spreading to make room as Rude settles between them. Reno wants to look at his face, but he can’t. He was barely conscious of Rude’s coming before, and now he’s unable to look away as Rude strokes himself faster and faster.

Reno’s mouth opens in excitement when Rude’s cock pulses with cum; the hot splatters land on Reno’s cock and hips, and even a few more drops get worked out as Rude shudders forward into his own fist. Reno’s first instinct is to finally touch himself, and covered in the hot slippery mess from Rude, it’s easy to bring himself to the edge.

He doesn’t look away from Rude’s face, and Rude doesn’t either. They stare at each other when Reno cries out and comes, making the mess even bigger.

“Okay,” Reno says, memorizing the _look_ Rude is giving him. “I guess I can give you the benefit of the doubt.”

Rude’s expression of wonder slips away into one of amusement instead. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re cheeky?”

“Not after they were between ‘em like that,” Reno says, and he knows he’s succeeded in bringing down Rude’s defenses, because he’s full-on blushing.

Reno memorizes that look, too.

* * *

Reno knows what’s going to happen, and he hates that it’s making him have butterflies in his stomach. The nice thing is that Rude seems to anticipate it at the beginning of their next meeting. The usual ritual of pulling out his tie seems to settle Reno’s mind, though he still knows the look he’s giving Rude is borderline doe-eyed.

“You gonna finger me today?” Reno asks bluntly.

Rude’s lips quirk up, though he’s barely stopped himself from laughing. “Straight to the point as always.”

“I mean, what else is there?” Reno says, and Rude can’t disagree with that, giving him a kind grin.

“We’ll see how you feel about it when we get there. For now, do you want to join me in the shower?” Rude hums.

Reno feels his ears heat up. “We don’t have to. Today. I uh.” He clears his throat. “We don’t have to.”

Rude lifts an eyebrow at him, and his eyes are hot as they flicker over his body. “Come with me, then.”

Only their hands touch until they make it into the bedroom, and then Rude’s kissing him. It’s not tentative; Rude’s familiar with him, now, and there’s an undercurrent of desire pulsing around them both. Reno accepts the tongue slipped into his mouth and moans. He’s enjoyed everything Rude’s put on him _and_ inside him; he’s pretty sure he’d agree to anything Rude asked him for. The way they kiss breeds rough tugging of clothes, Reno’s grip on Rude’s arms and sides tight as he tries to get as much in his hands as he can. He wants Rude to feel as crazy as Reno feels whenever he’s touched; he wants to blow that damn professionalism out of the water.

They’re naked, and Rude presses his back into the bed as he slips down his body. Reno is treated to the sight of Rude efficiently sucking him until Reno’s abs start to twitch in eagerness. Then Rude’s big hands slide under Reno’s ass, pushing him up and leveraging his legs up over Rude’s shoulders, and then his tongue is on his ass.

It’s better this time. Reno’s not even _thinking_ about hygiene. His brain can only handle the good things: the flickering warmth of a tongue, the knowledge that this is turning Rude on, the excitement of what’s to come soon after.

He’s not exactly writhing, but he’s somehow achieved a state of sexy zen; his hole is soft from Rude’s talented tongue. He feels relaxed and clean. Yet, when he feels Rude’s index finger slip behind his perineum, he lets out a puff of shocked air. Rude hums thoughtfully, and then pushes Reno’s legs off of his shoulders. He slides up the bed and pulls Reno with him to lay on their sides together so that they’re facing. His hand draws Reno’s thigh up over his, exposing his hole.

“You still want me to?” Rude asks.

Reno’s eyes flicker down and back up. Rude’s hard as a rock, again. That helps bring back some of the zen. “Yeah,” Reno says, and shuts his eyes. He just listens for it: the sound of Rude opening a tube of lube, of his hand warming the dollop of slick, of his fingers now tapping against Reno’s most private parts. A nervous feeling chokes up in his chest, but he tries to ignore it.

His mouth parts when Rude’s finger slips in. He’s surprisingly relaxed already from the rimming, though now that there’s something inside him, his body clearly wants it gone. “Sorry,” he mumbles, clenching despite himself as Rude’s fingertip leaves him.

“It takes a while to get used to,” Rude rumbles. His finger slides in again. “Pushing helps until it’s familiar.”

Reno squeezes his eyes shut. “Seems counter productive,” he says, but does as he’s told and feels Rude’s finger slide to the second knuckle. He lets out a soft gasp.

“The act itself might be just that,” Rude teases, and kisses Reno’s shoulder. They’re quiet again as he just moves the one finger in and out. The sensation is deeply embarrassing to Reno, but he already knows he’s more than prepped and ready for this. It’s just… Unusual, especially when it’s not wrapped up in _agony_. “Have you ever had this in a capacity that feels good?”

“No,” Reno mumbles.

Rude’s voice aches with fondness that Reno can’t help but eat up. “Poor Reno,” he murmurs, and presses his finger in all the way. “I’ll make it good for you.” Then they’re kissing, and Reno can’t help moaning into Rude’s mouth, especially when a second fingertip curls inside him and then stops.

It’s slow going. Reno feels a little bit like he’s being taken apart and put back together again every time a new sensation hits him. When he seems ‘loose’ enough with two fingers, Rude thrusts them slowly in and out. Reno isn’t even sure if it feels _good_ , more that it doesn’t feel _bad_. Though listening to Rude’s slightly sped up breath does send sparks of desire up and down his spine.

Then Rude curls his fingers, and Reno jerks. It’s a surprise. It’s not an instant flip of a switch, but it’s certainly a feeling he has no recollection of. Rude’s curved fingers hover above the spot they had just brushed. Teasing while still buried inside him.

Unbelievable.

“Again,” Reno whispers, and Rude complies; the fat rounded tips of his fingers rub over his prostate, and then again, and again, until Reno feels his balls tighten up. “Oh, shit.”

“You like that?” Rude croons, and Reno has half a mind to sock him in the mouth.

“More,” he growls instead, his lips parting into a whine of desire as Rude slowly works in a third finger — and once he does, he returns to simply thrusting them in and out of him, avoiding that tender spot that had sent him buzzing minutes before. “Rude—! C’mon!”

“Easy,” Rude hums. “Want you to enjoy the stretch, too.”

“I know,” Reno pants, “what I want.” His hand slides down between them to grasp his own cock, and he would be a fool not to notice Rude’s expression darkening with lust. “Gimme more.”

Finally, Rude obliges. With three fingers he’s able to press deep, massage the prostate while his thumb teases against his taint. Reno know he’s being reduced to mewling, but he can’t help it. There’s an unfamiliar burn as his rim stretches around Rude’s knuckles, but it just makes him feel hotter with every thrust. His hand chokes up on his dick. “What if I come?” Reno gasps.

“Then I’ll feel you squeeze my fingers,” Rude purrs, and seems spurned on by this to fuck his hand into him faster. It catches Reno off guard, the motion causing him to seize up and clench tightly around his hand. Rude stops, his face an open book of dumb surprise. “Shit, you okay?”

Reno nods, opens his mouth to say as much and just moans. “Don’t—stop,” he manages, and Rude’s fingers return to a somewhat less punishing but equally pleasing rhythm. It could be Rude’s cock inside him, instead of his hands, he realizes; that’s the next step, isn’t it? Squeezing down around him, watching his face contort into the pleasure that Reno can give him even while he’s giving the same in return. He wants that so bad he can taste it. Reno’s hand flies over his own cock, desperate. “Fuck me,” he gasps. “Fuck me, _fuck me_.”

Rude doesn’t let up and it forces Reno to give in: he feels his entire body clamp down around Rude’s hand as his cock squirts between them. Reno knows he must look stupid, but he feels too good to care. Rude’s fingers tickle over his prostate and he’s left with aftershocks, moaning and writhing. He lets go of himself, looks up at Rude and says again: “Fuck me.”

Rude shakes his head with a soft, pleased look; yet, his fingers slip out of Reno. “Take a nice deep breath and just enjoy this feeling.”

“I’m ready now,” Reno says. The rush of the orgasm is bolstering his needs as well as his ego. “I know you wanna fuck me. Do it, I’m stretched, c’mon.” And he’s suddenly just _so empty_.

Rude shrugs. “No.”

Reno’s eyes widen, irritation tickling at the back of his throat. “What the hell? Why not?”

“Reno,” Rude says. The tone is insultingly chastising. “One step at a time.”

Reno feels outrage boiling under the surface. Why won’t Rude just—give him what he wants? Isn’t that what he’s paying him for? “It’s supposed to be my choice!”

Rude’s lips turn into a soft frown. “We talked about respecting both our boundaries, Reno, and I can tell you from a professional point of view, you are _not—_ ”

Reno pushes himself up and away from Rude, sitting up in the bed. There’s a twinge in his ass, and he ignores it. The last thing he wants to do is admit this jerk is right. But at least it serves to fuel the rage that’s bubbling over. “I could just go fuck anybody I wanted, you know. You’re supposed to be _helping_ me.”

Rude stares at him for a long moment, and Reno’s irritation grows. It’s bad enough to be told he wasn’t ready — like some kinda kid, or the blushing damsels Rude’s used to, maybe — but knowing that Rude is analyzing him right now? _Just how damaged would one dick make him?_

“You could,” Rude says. His voice is disturbingly bland. Uncaring. Professional. “But today, you’ve already physically exerted yourself—”

“Don’t tell me what you think I’ve done, pal,” Reno says. He’s off the bed a second later, looking for his clothes. “I don’t have to take this kind of blatant disregard. I’m payin’ _you_.”

“I’m _not_ a prostitute,” Rude says. Reno freezes, turning to look at Rude as an angry fire explodes in his belly. “You’re paying me because I know the best way to _help you_. But you have to _let me_ help you.”

Reno’s mind whites out at the words. “ _Fuck_ you, pal,” he says, and then he’s gone: out the bedroom door and into his clothes lightning fast.

“Now hold on,” Rude says, but Reno doesn’t give him a chance. He leaves the clinic with fury burning behind his eyes, and he already knows he won’t hear Rude’s footsteps behind him.


	7. Remind Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rude's POV! Once again, big love to Lemon_drop_lantana for massaging, workshopping, and brainstorming with me on this.
> 
> One ch left! Plus maybe an epilogue because I'm kinda obsessed.

Rude thinks that he might be in way over his head.

It’s Saturday night. The gym has low lights — technically closing soon, but since he teaches here he has the alarm code and a key. He stands in front of the only punching bag tucked into the back. He’s wrapped up his hands up to his wrists out of habit. He stretches his neck, eases his shoulders, and then settles into the balls of his feet. He strikes the bag once, twice; settles into a rhythm.

He thinks about the redhead.

He thinks about the time they held hands, and Reno cried. He thinks about how receptive Reno was to kisses; how good he tasted. He thinks about how, on that night of extreme protocol breach and having a ‘sleep over’, he’d been sorely upset about missing the sight of Reno’s face _and_ prick when he’d finally had his first orgasm in years. He thinks about how good he tasted, fresh out of a shower or otherwise.

He thinks about the slightly pointed canine teeth, the snide smirks, the soft huffs. He thinks about the stubbornness. He thinks about Reno’s fingers. He thinks about Reno’s mouth around _his_ fingers.

He thinks about Reno snarling at him: _I can just fuck somebody else._

Rude huffs, stopping to hug the bag for a minute. He catches his breath, angry that he’d done this to get his mind on something else. Anything else. Except it’s all he can think about.

He straightens up, changes stances, and his wrapped knuckles meet leather again.

The thing about Reno sleeping with someone else is that that is what _he is supposed to do_. Rude’s method of therapy is to get clients back into the swing of things; to either go experience something they never had before, or to get back into it like nothing had ever been wrong in the first place. It should be a prideful moment for a client to say, in so many words, ‘I want to sleep with someone new.’ To break free of the relative dependence that Rude can foster in a partnership ( _not_ relationship) like this.

But Reno’s words cut him every time he thinks of them. Like picking them up and observing them in isolation just shreds him again and again, in a feeling he hasn’t really had before. The way he’s tearing into the bag, now.

He’s not dumb. He knows what it is. It’s just not normal.

Rude has _never_ felt jealousy at the idea of his client being ready to move on. At whoever ends up crossing Reno’s path if he goes looking.

Part of the reason Rude is in his line of work is the distinct lack of emotional connection he makes to the clients. He can make them feel cherished — loved, even — without it actually going to his head. There’s a reason he doesn’t work with clients unless they already have a therapist lined up; they usually go through a period that feels like getting dumped, and they need a therapist’s guiding hand to help them traverse that fragile period.

But Reno has been pushing his buttons. Filling his head — and heart — with feelings that Rude hasn’t felt since that fling he’d had in college more than a decade ago.

Rude’s a moment from head butting the punching bag when he forces himself to slow down. He exhales and knows he’s the last one in, and sees that there’s red blooming under the wrapping. “Shit,” he mutters, and goes to shower.

Afterward, he checks his hands: the bleeding is mostly superficial, though the sharp knuckles have the telltale bruises. He uses the first aid kit to touch a bit of alcohol to them, and then gets dressed and heads home.

He feels exhausted, and when he finally closes his front door behind him, he sinks into it. He’s weary — physically, emotionally. It makes him feel… Weird.

 _This is weird_ , he thinks in Reno’s voice, and that stupid pull at his chest happens again. “Jesus, what time is it?” he says, and pulls out his phone to see that it’s past 10:30 at night.

He’d been out at the gym for almost two hours. No wonder he’d started bleeding. Christ, he’s a hot mess. He toes out of his sneakers and socks, letting his bare feet stretch on the hardwood floor.

Then he nearly drops his phone, because it’s ringing in his hand, and his eyes widen to saucers.

_Client: Miska, R._

Did he think about Reno so much that he’d managed to _manifest him?_ “Shit,” Rude whispers, and then answers the phone. “Rude speaking.”

“Uhh, hi,” Reno says. His voice is a little distorted — not with booze, but with background noise of a road. “I… didn’t know who else to call.”

The logical center of Rude’s brain knows this is a bad idea. He should just tell him to call his regular therapist. Or an actual friend. But his heart is forming words way ahead of his brain. “Are you alright? What’s happened?”

“I’m— I’m okay,” Reno says, though his voice sounds thick, like he’s on the verge of tears — or has finally managed to stop them. “I just. I ran into a situation I wasn’t… Ready for, and I need.” His voice weakens, growing a little in pitch. “I just needed somewhere safe where I wouldn’t be alone. For awhile.”

That is not Rude’s house, Rude thinks. But Rude says, “Did someone hurt you?”

“No. No! I’m… I’m okay,” Reno says, but his voice is shaking. “I just…”

“Come over,” Rude says, and even as the words leave his mouth his own eyes shut in disbelief. What the fuck is wrong with him? “I’ll send you the address. Get a ride share and… we can talk.”

Rude half expects him to ask _are you sure?_ , but that’s not Reno’s way. His pushiness is one of the (stupidly many) things he likes about him. “Okay,” Reno says.

“I’ll pay for the ride share,” Rude insists.

“Nah,” Reno says, and then hangs up.

Rude stares at the phone, and then texts his home address to Reno. A client.

His _home address_.

Christ, he has literally never, in his entire career, let a client come into the place he lived. This is stupid. This is _so stupid_. Their last appointment had ended up so sourly and in response, Rude was inviting him into his damn _house_?

Rude’s first instinct is to clean up, but then his doorbell rings and it’s too late to change into something a little less cozy: his jersey t-shirt with the local gym’s logo on it, and a pair of slightly ratty, but well-loved and comfortable jeans. But what it is important for Reno to know that this is a breach of boundaries. To see him out of Rude’s usual well-kept element.

He opens the door and Reno looks barely worse for wear. His hair is still mostly coiffed in that ridiculous red mullet, though a little messy like someone had had their hands in it. His gray button down looks soft, and has the top three buttons undone, just more than is strictly necessary. His jeans are dark and immaculate, and his boots look expensive and give him a boost with a little heel. Rude tries not to get knocked back by the scent of his unfamiliar date night cologne.

Reno is a fucking _dish_ and it’s _a little unfair_.

“Sorry,” Reno says, his voice less scratchy than it was on the phone. “I know it’s late.”

Rude shakes his head and steps aside, gesturing for him to come in. But he also keeps his distance. Not that Reno has a tie for him to get his fingers into.

Unfortunately.

They stand awkwardly in the entry way until Rude simply clears his throat and leads them into the living room. Walnut, his orange tabby cat, has taken over Rude’s nice reading chair, which only leaves the couch. Reno sits on one end of it, and Rude is tempted to join him on it.

“Scoot, Wally,” Rude says instead, pushes the cat out of the chair, and sits down.

“You didn’t mention you had a cat,” Reno says softly. His expression is frustratingly difficult to read.

“I usually keep work and home very separate,” Rude says, and it comes out sharp. Reno winces. Rude sighs. Off to another bad start.

“Sorry,” Reno says again, the scratchy quality back to his voice.

“You going to tell me what happened?” Rude asks.

Reno won’t look at him, and at this point, Rude doesn’t blame him. Though Reno mostly seems to be looking around at bookshelves and trinkets and more local paintings. “I uh, I had a date,” Reno says.

“I’d congratulate you, but it sounds like it went south,” Rude says. He’s trying to stay bland, but if he finds out some guy tried to lay hands on Reno without his permission, he might have to get up and leave. And destroy someone. Bruised knuckles and all.

“It was fine, honestly,” Reno says. His gaze drops down to his fingernails. “I just, as soon as we got naked, I uh, started to panic internally, y’know? But was like, this is probably fine. I wanted it so bad, um, before.”

God, Rude knows. Of course he’d wanted to fuck Reno when he’d begged him. He’s been thinking about that since this shady secret agent came through his door. But Rude is a professional. “So you tried to take it too far.”

“As soon as he got a finger in me I just. I freaked out on him,” Reno says. His face is burning red with shame, and Rude frowns. He hates seeing it. “He was nice about it, all things considered, but I didn’t even exchange numbers with him, I just threw him offa me and got my clothes on and ended up having a panic attack in the street until I um…”

“Until you called me,” Rude says. God, he’s never wanted to hug a human being so bad in his life.

But this is his house, and when they’re off the clock, they basically don’t know each other. Rude doesn’t want to encourage him. They still have at least one appointment left — since it sounds like he needs it.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, again, really,” Reno says. “Especially about the shit from before, and. I just needed someone to hang out with. I don’t know. I just don’t want to be alone with my thoughts. With me.”

Rude slowly tips his head as he looks at him. “So you don’t want your head shrunk.”

“I’d rather just listen to you talk,” Reno admits. He still won’t make eye contact. “I just need a break from me. For a while.”

Rude eases back into his chair, glancing at the crime thriller he’d planned on settling in with tonight on the side table. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything deeply entertaining planned, so.”

“What’s with the knuckles?” Reno asks, and Rude grimaces.

Of course the second Rude looked away from him would be when Reno observed him. “Punching bag,” he says wryly.

It’s quiet for a moment and Reno laughs awkwardly. “You don’t talk much in the wild, eh?”

For some reason, this very true observation makes Rude feel embarrassed. “I guess not.” He wonders if it’s so painfully awkward that Reno will just get up and leave.

“Okay, so… Can I ask you a question? Maybe I can get like two full sentences out of you.”

Rude looks up at him then, and finally their eyes settle on each other. Reno’s eyes are so damn pretty, and though he still has that touch of blush lighting up his face, it highlights those tattoos. And those _freckles_. “Shoot,” Rude says.

“How’d you get into this line of work, man?” Reno asks. He’s the first one to break eye contact, pulling his feet out of his shoes and tucking them under his legs. He’s making himself small on the couch, and Rude wonders if he’s cold.

“That’s kind of a long story,” Rude admits.

“Oh my god, _finally_. Tell me!” Reno says. His expression has almost lightened to have a half-hearted grin.

Rude’s flattered. With clients they don’t really ask about him. It’s part of the reason he feels more comfortable just asking small questions and listening. But it’s also deeply personal, and Reno genuinely wants to know. He should brush him off.

He doesn’t. “I was pre-med for a while. Had a really specific interest in women’s health, especially when a lot of my female classmates had a lot of uh… outrage directed in the particular direction of the medical establishment.”

Reno lifts an eyebrow at him, but says nothing. He really does want to listen to him.

 _So weird_ , Rude thinks.

“There were just a lot of uh, medical conditions that have very little research done into. There are tons of ways of dealing with these issues but there’s never been much about the actual studies about why they happen or when it develops and I ended up taking a course in sex psychology. Ended up changing majors, and spent enough time in school to get my masters. But there was something calling me about physical therapy. And I’d talked to plenty of PTs who specialize in the stuff nobody thinks about.”

Reno looks like he wants to make a comment. He doesn’t. But he’s also looking directly at Rude and still listening.

“And I thought, what’s like the physical therapy equivalent of sex therapy? And then realized what _that_ sounded like, but. Turns out there was actually a very specific career path for that that _wasn’t…”_

“Bein’ a hooker,” Reno says with zero malice.

“Right,” Rude says, and knows he’s smiling despite himself, even if it’s just the corner of his mouth barely tipping up. “Anyway, took out a third loan for a year long course in Israel on sexual surrogacy, came back prepared to serve the world, and realized I didn’t know where to do it. Like I said, it’s… separate from my home life, so I moved in with my dad out in the burbs, asked him for a little help paying for a studio apartment downtown, and ah, worked out of the studio for a while.”

Rude clears his throat and looks up at Reno to see the other’s mouth open in shock. God, he’s cute. “You were livin’ with _your dad_ while..?”

“Look, when you’re first starting out you can’t charge a lot, but you also can’t be taking people to motels. It’s a very specific kind of vibe. So I had to have a studio apartment that had a bed and a couch and a toilet and that always had a hotel _vibe_ without feeling like it was dirty. These were vulnerable men and women, you know? They wanted to know I wasn’t some creep. And anyway, I only lived with him for a year. I don’t know if you can imagine what it’s like to have your retired father silently judging you. ‘You were gonna be a doctor, Rudolfo.’”

“Pff, whatever, man,” Reno says. “If you became a doctor you’d just end up pulling cucumbers and flashlights out of people’s asses. Same difference.”

Rude stares at him and actually barks out a laugh of surprise. No one had ever put it like that before.

“Where’d you go then? Were you makin’ bank after that first year?”

Rude can’t look at him. It’s strange to be telling someone this, this way. “Found the cheapest rent I could find. So I was still paying for the studio, but I ended up living in a glorified closet with 6 roommates for like two years. Sometimes I couldn’t even get surrogate jobs, so I spent some time bartending and bouncing and stripping until I got my first therapist’s commendation.”

“Hold on, wait,” Reno says. “Wait a minute.”

“And everything else is pretty much history,” Rude says quickly.

“You can’t just gloss over that,” Reno says, and he’s full on grinning now.

Rude sighs. “Yes, I waited tables.”

“ _Rude_ , you _stripped?_ ”

He rolls his eyes. “Honestly, one of the best jobs I’d had as a stepping stone for what I do now.”

“You can like, pole dance and stuff?”

“Not exactly,” Rude says. “Do you seriously want to know this?”

“No, please tell me more about your closet room. Yes I want to hear stories about you _being a stripper_.” Reno’s face is sly and amused.

Rude rolls his eyes. “I was bartending and bouncing _at a strip club_. Mostly women, I think on Saturday nights they’d have like a one hour window for male strippers, but. Basically the owner saw me and suggested I’d be good for the ah, bachelorette party style Delivery Stripper service they provided.”

Reno is staring at him. “The kind from movies. Like dressed as a cop, with your own boombox, knocking on the door about noise disturbances before you rip your pants off.”

Rude taps his nose for ‘yes’.

Reno looks, for lack of a better word, dazzled. It’s hilarious. “I literally don’t believe you.”

“Look, you’ve never had debts you needed to pay off?”

“What? Hell no!” Reno laughs. “When I said I joined the military when I hit 18, I meant it. Got a cushy government job at 26. No debts. I got stocks. I got a fat 401k. I have the kinda government salary where they are paying my Special Ed Sex Therapist in cash.”

Rude chokes on his own words. “Is that what you’ve been calling me?”

“Nah,” Reno says, and grins at him. Rude feels warmth hit his cheeks. “Anyway, tell me more about stripper delivery.”

“Genuinely, it was good for me,” Rude says, rolling his eyes. “Made a lot of money, was able to snowball my debt a lot faster. Could afford the nicer private gyms to keep my physique up. Learned how to get hard at any time, and how to make a woman — any woman — feel special.”

“You keep talking about it like that,” Reno says. “No bachelor parties?”

Rude laughs. “It genuinely never came up. The club was not particularly gay forward.”

“So you’ve never given a lap dance to a dude with a boner? I don’t know. That seems like missing out on something fundamental.”

Rude feels amused irritation light up his chest at the implication. “No, Reno.”

“Aw, c’mon. Not now, obviously, I get there’s _rules—”_

“I’m not giving you, nor anybody else, a lap dance, ever again.”

“What if I found the right music?”

“Reno.”

They’re smirking at each other. It feels friendly, rather than romantic, and it takes a lot of that ‘deep hole of despair’ feeling that Rude’s been fighting with lately and pushes it to the side. Like this, he can just enjoy this strange fool’s company. There’s nothing between them but the contract.

_Just keep tellin’ yourself that, Gonzalez._

“You know, I’d have to laugh if we were in the middle east at the same time,” Reno says thoughtfully. “Very different reasons.”

“God, let’s not get into it,” Rude says, and catches himself laughing. “Reno, what the hell do you do _now_?”

“That’s classified,” Reno says smugly, folding his arms.

“Bullshit, I told you about my dad and stripping.”

“Not my fault you’re an open book,” Reno says, and Rude is about to yell at him when Reno’s stomach growls like a man starved. Reno’s expression drops to one of embarrassment. “Ha. Sorry. I had that date, y’know? So I got all _prepped_ and didn’t eat dinner and uh. I should just leave, go get a burger or something.”

Rude’s brain wants that very much: get Reno out of this house before something wildly irresponsible happens.

Rude’s heart is so much more fast and stupid. “Stay. I’ll make dinner — I haven’t eaten yet. How are you in a kitchen?”

 _What am I doing?_ The expression on Reno’s face, growing excited about staying, tells him exactly what he’s doing. He’s giving them both what they want, and just seeing Reno happy like that makes him feel good.

“I can slice and dice almost passably,” Reno says.

“You’re hired,” Rude says, and guides him into the kitchen.

While he gathers a bunch of ingredients out of his fridge for a basic stir fry — meat and veg — Reno is poking around. “What’s the deal with this fancy house? You must be loaded, now. Stripping really helped, eh?”

“Once I was able to pay off most of my debt, it was a lot easier to save money. Bought this place a year ago. And it’s lovely, don’t get me wrong, but…” Rude slaps a chopping board down and hands Reno his second nicest knife. “Dice the onion and peppers for me.”

“But what?” Reno asks, and does as he’s told.

“There’s just a lot of broken shit in weird places. Old things falling apart. And I don’t exactly have the means to just hire a contractor, not yet.” Rude uses his nicest knife to cut chicken breast.

“Was wondering why there was so much creepy old wallpaper.”

Rude sighs. “I really should have had that done before I moved in.”

“Still,” Reno says, and Rude glances over at him. Reno’s _very_ proficient at chopping. He’d sold himself short both times discussing his cooking skills. “Whole place has kind of a nice minimalist thing going on. Wouldn’t be too hard to move stuff to the center and get it done. What else you doin’ all day?”

Rude feels his cheeks heat up in a fierce blush at that. “I lead a rich inner life of not working on my house, thank you,” he says hotly, and Reno laughs so hard he has to put the knife down before he hurts himself.

“You’re one of those damn kids who grew up having somebody else fix all your shit for you, aren’t you?”

“When you spend most of your 20s focused on furthering your career,” Rude begins.

“I did too, I can still fix a light bulb, pal.”

“That’s—do you see any lights out in here, Reno?”

Reno just shoots him a cheeky look, and Rude tries not to swoon. Instead he focuses on the wok.

They fall into a quiet rhythm after that; after the meat cooks, Rude passes the wooden spoon to Reno to stir while he gathers soy sauce and wine and eggs and everything else. The cooking goes by fast, and soon they’re seated across from each other with bowls of food and forks.

“So what do you actually do?” Rude asks, and takes a bite so that he’s not required to talk.

Reno just rolls his eyes. “Fine, god. I’m just in secret service.”

“So you’re a body guard for the president.”

“Well, I’m not important enough for _that_ , but people like that, yeah. Any senator or congressmen or sometimes department heads who need a little protection, and we’re there for it.”

“Any of them?”

“Yup.”

“Even—”

“Yes, even the assholes. Look, they’re all dicks up close,” Reno says. “But I can’t think about the assholes as assholes, I have to keep them safe.” He chuckles. “Gotta keep my cushy day job.”

“Even if it means giving up your morals for the man?”

“Oh, please,” Reno says. “You’re not one of those far out types, are you?”

Rude can’t help but smirk as he stirs his food with his fork. “What would you do if I was?”

“Not believe you, _again_ ,” Reno says, and points his own fork at Rude threateningly — even with the piece of broccoli stuck on the end. “You had like three huge bookshelves in that living room and I didn’t see any twenty page pamphlets about Communist Manifestos or anything. Not to mention it sounds like you grew up middle class at _least_.”

“When did you have time to read _every_ spine in that library? And, ah. Upper middle class,” Rude admits. “Dad was a federal judge before he retired.”

“Rich people spoutin’ that shit is more insulting, y’know,” Reno says.

“You know you’re technically in better financial shape than me,” Rude points out.

“You own a _house_ , Rude.”

“Well, there’s a mortgage with my name on it, technically,” Rude says, and Reno grins at him.

“And it sounds like you’re just gonna let it fall apart around you, so. Good point,” Reno teases.

“Dick,” Rude says, and then looks taken aback. He did not mean to say that.

Reno laughs out loud at it. “Ha! Touched a nerve.”

Rude rolls his eyes and eats. There’s a desire in him that wishes he’d sat next to Reno. He wants to put a hand on his knee. He wants—a lot of stuff he can’t have, right now.

After they eat, they both seem a little more at ease. Rude takes the dishes to the sink, rinsing them and then running the garbage disposal, only to hear it make a disturbingly loud grinding noise. He flicks the switch off, ignoring it.

Reno’s staring at him. “The hell was that?”

Rude rolls his eyes. “It’s nothing. The disposal’s been screwed up for months. I bought a new one, I just haven’t gotten around—”

Reno pushes up his sleeves. “You got tools?”

Rude is the one who’s staring, now. Damn, watching Reno roll up his sleeves so eagerly has knocked him off his balance. “What do you mean?”

“Look, you’re clearly worthless at this kind of thing,” Reno says, “and you let me come over and harass you late on a Saturday, _and_ you fed me. Let me help out. A little. If you’ve got the parts, I can hook it up.”

Rude’s mouth works for a moment. “I dunno,” he hesitates. “It’s plumbing stuff.”

“This is a walk in the park, you big baby,” Reno says. “You said _months_? Bro.”

It’s the final word of disbelief that gets Rude to crack. Rude has to look away so that Reno can’t see the bashful amused look flit across his face. “Yes, fine, I have _tools_.”

That’s how they end up in the kitchen for a while: half of Reno’s body sticking out from under the sink with a flashlight causing a strange glow to come out of the cabinet, and Rude sitting cross legged near Reno to hand him the right sized wrench or plumber’s tape or a bucket.

Reno only swears once, when he accidentally unscrews the trap dangerously close to his face. It turns into grossed out laughter at the sound of waste water sloshing into a bucket, and then thoughtful humming until he’d ask for the next item. Rude was letting himself indulge in watching: letting their hands brush when he passed the right sized wrench (after handing him the wrong sized one), blatantly watching Reno’s shirt pull out from his jeans to show off the pale muscle underneath, listening to Reno remark on shitty nineties craftsmanship.

No one has ever done something like this for him.

Why the hell would they? Rude exudes confidence and wealth — it’s part of his professional persona. He’s tall and muscular and articulate. He’s the kind of guy who builds a sexy greenhouse in women’s dreams.

Yet in reality he’d just stuffed the new garbage disposal box and fittings under the sink and was waiting for the day he’d muster up the courage to look up how to install it on YouTube.

“There, lemme just get it switched on and plugged in,” Reno mumbles, and then pushes himself out from under the sink. “Run it!”

Rude stands, runs the water and flicks the switch. The sound is loud, but smooth: the sign of a happily working machine. He turns it off and gazes down at Reno, still sitting on his floor but leaning back on his palms. He’s grinning up at him, and his hair has flattened out a bit from laying down at the odd angle. Rude’s voice feels rusty when he says, “You’re full of surprises.”

Reno scoffs and sticks a hand in the air. Rude reaches for it and helps pull Reno to his feet. “Told you, man,” Reno says, and then his voice seems to drop in volume. Rude may have pulled a little too hard, since they’re standing awfully close. “It’s good to be self sufficient.” His eyes flicker down to their hands held between their chests, and his thumb softly brushes over Rude’s knuckles. “That includes your own upkeep, y’know.”

Rude’s heart is beating so hard he feels it in his throat. He tries to ignore it. Reno’s over the top flirting doesn’t usually work on him, but this quiet sincerity is breaking down all of his barriers. “It’s fine.”

Reno’s fingertips stroke each knuckle and then pull away, their hands separating even as their bodies stand inches apart. “If you don’t take care of yourself, who will?” Reno says, soft eyes lifting to meet Rude’s.

The words sting with meaning: no one is close enough to Rude to _take care_ of him, and he’s set himself up for that with his rules, maybe even his career choice. He’s gotten a taste tonight of what it _could_ be like. He likes it, though it’s frightening. It’s altering his decision making. His hand, now free from Reno’s calloused fingers, slides up until it’s caressing the side of Reno’s neck. He gives it a reassuring squeeze. “Thank you, anyway,” he says. It’s not clear if it’s gratitude for the advice, or the disposal replacement, or the conversations. Reno’s eyes are so big and blue and _sad_ that it’s eating him alive.

“Rude, I…”

Rude doesn’t let him finish the sentence. He just closes the gap between them and kisses him, his thumb stroking down the sensitive flesh of Reno’s throat. There’s no tongue, just the press of their mouths together at first. Rude isn’t even sure he meant to do this. Maybe he’d just wanted to give him a hug. Except he feels Reno’s lips part under his and a shaky gasp curls out of him, and he knows if he hadn’t meant to before, he does now. His tongue slides out to tease Reno, and then Reno throws his arms around his neck and leans up into it.

There’s no pretense, either: no plans, no schedule, just Rude getting his other hand around Reno’s waist and pressing him close by the small of his back. One of Reno’s hands slides down and settles on Rude’s ass, and it startles a little laugh out of Rude that twists into a moan. Reno takes over a bit, pressing his hips forward to push them back until he has Rude pressed against the sink.

Rude knows, somewhere, that this is a bad idea. He knows he has feelings so strong that he should have stopped counseling him weeks ago. But at this point, his own brain is playing tricks on him. This is just an extension of his method of therapy. This is to help Reno. This isn’t about how badly he’s needed to get his hands and mouth on Reno the entire evening, how his thoughts were full of nothing but him for the entire day. Every day.

No, it’s none of that. It’s that Rude has a _professional duty_ to fuck this man.

With that mindset firmly in place, Rude slots a leg between Reno’s thighs. Reno groans and rubs instinctively against him. Rude moves both his hands to Reno’s hips, guiding him, and bites back a groan as he feels Reno get hard in those designer jeans. He pulls Reno closer to him, his own cock filling out at the increasing friction while their lips slide easily together.

Normally, for work, Rude just knows tricks to get hard if he needs them. He’s a healthy man, he doesn’t need a _lot_ of tricks, but they do come in handy. His time with Reno never required a second thought. Everything he did sparked something sexy in Rude. It’s maddening.

Reno’s fingers have moved to Rude’s fly, and he knows he has to stop this. He reaches for Reno’s hand to stop him, and breaks the kiss long enough to say, “Not in the kitchen.” Then he pulls back and stares at Reno and has no idea if he’s ever seen someone look so—perfect. “Upstairs.”

Reno bites his lip. There’s no nervousness in his expression, just insincere bashfulness. He’s a tease. He’s somehow, despite everything, a damn tease. Rude loves it. “Lead the way.”

Rude pulls him out into the hallway, up the stairs and into the master bedroom, which in stark comparison to the rest of the place, appears to be renovated already. The walls are painted dark, and there’s built-in bookcases and a window box with a seat in it, but as they zero in on each other, Rude doubts Reno sees any of it.

They’re kissing again, and he lets Reno get his hands under the waistband of his shirt. Being stripped down first is a novelty for Rude, and when his shirt lands messily on the ground, Reno stares at him for a good five seconds before he’s diving back in to get his pants open. Rude feels lightheaded. It’s happening in such a rush, and then he’s just _naked_ in front of Reno and his bed, and the only sound is Reno’s quickened breaths.

Reno’s been in control long enough, Rude decides.

He snatches him around the waist and methodically strips him, pulling him in for a breath-stealing kiss. When he pulls back, Reno’s naked other than his pants around his ankles, and his expression is just as sweet, with wide pupils and a slightly upturned panting mouth. It’s that dazzled look, again. It’s not funny this time around.

Rude’s fingers press around Reno’s hips, swinging him around and then pushing him back into the black comforter. It’s the opposite of his sterile office’s aesthetic. It’s dark and warm and Reno’s pale skin and bright hair stand out beautifully on his bed like a meal. Reno scoots back enough, the soles of his feet dragging as he pulls his knees up and pushes himself to his elbows. There’s a spot between his spread knees, and Rude slides onto the bed into just that opening. This time, when he kisses Reno’s open mouth, their cocks rub tantalizingly together. Reno’s moans just open his mouth further, making it easy for Rude to slide his tongue in and out.

Reno’s hand on his shoulder finally gets him to pull back. Reno’s lips are swollen and he just wants to lean back into them. He looks questioningly at him, and Reno just huffs. “Fuck me?” he asks. It’s timid. “I thought…”

Rude groans despite himself. He thinks about how Reno went out tonight _looking_ to get fucked, and now he’s in his bed, caged in by arms. “You sure?”

Reno bites his lip. The timidness has fallen to the wayside for an obvious flirt. “I want it to be you.”

Rude’s not sure what makes him feel hotter, the burning feeling in his chest or the throbbing in his cock, but Reno’s words get him off of Reno in an instant. He’s rolling over to the night stand and grabbing the lube and a condom. “Come up here,” Rude says, and Reno scrambles up to sit in front of the headboard in record time. Rude settles himself to straddle one of Reno’s legs, pulling his hips back just a bit as his fingers slide tenderly over Reno’s curved length, past his balls and beyond.

Reno’s mouth opens in another gasp, and then he’s got his lip between his teeth again just to keep himself from moaning. Rude wants to tell him to stop, to make whatever noise he wants, but this is about Reno feeling comfortable.

And god, it makes him want to bite that lip, too.

He wraps one arm around Reno’s back and presses close to him; slicks up his fingers and teases his hole with a wet fingertip. When he kisses Reno, sliding a finger into him is almost effortless. The realization has Rude’s hips twitching, his heavy cock bouncing against the stretch of Reno’s slim, muscular abdomen.

Reno turns his head so Rude’s lips brush to his cheek. “T-talk to me,” Reno whispers, “say anything, I just…”

Rude moves so his lips are close to Reno’s ear, instead, as his second finger slides in. There’s a little more resistance this time, but soon he’s hooking them in and out of him. “You’re doing so well,” Rude says, and Reno lets out a short laugh, like it’s the wrong kind of praise. Rude pulls his fingers out for more lube, and then presses three fingers in. “I can’t wait to be inside you,” and this he whispers, because it’s unbearably true. “Is that what you want?”

Reno nearly chokes with want, a hand lunging out to grab Rude’s shoulder again. His legs keep spreading while Rude pumps his fingers in and out of him. “Yeah. Yeah, c’mon,” Reno begs, and it’s equally hushed.

When Rude pulls his fingers out of him, Reno inhales so sharply and shakily it’s like the emptiness hurts him. Rude shifts himself between Reno’s legs, groping around the bed until he finds the condom. Reno looks like he needs to be kissed, but Rude has to focus: get the wrapper off. Get it on him. He can’t remember the last time he felt so completely overwhelmed in bed.

Finally, he’s positioned where he wants to be, with one arm around his back while he carefully guides his cock inside of Reno. No time, or desire, to tease: Rude needs it too badly, and he thinks he’s not the only one.

“Oh fuck,” Reno says, and then Rude kisses him quiet as he presses in an inch and then stops. Reno clenches tightly around him and whimpers into Rude’s mouth. Rude moves his hand to Reno’s cock instead, and gives it slow strokes to ease him into it. He relaxes around Rude, and so then he pushes forward another inch and waits. Rude’s big. This is going to take a while.

Reno is looking up at him with an expression Rude tries to memorize. He looks so utterly open, so destroyed and so sweet, it makes Rude’s hips jerk forward despite himself, and Reno lets out a desperate moan. “ _Again_ ,” he gasps, back arching.

Rude pulls out and then slides his cock in more than half way, and Reno’s eyes flutter shut. “Again, again,” he gasps. “Fuck me, _fuck me_.”

If this were a normal session with a client he’d softly correct them to say _it’s making love_ , thank you very much. That there’s nothing vulgar about the beautiful act itself. There’s a whole _spiel_ for it, flowers opening metaphorically and everything. If it were a normal session, it’d be out of his smirking lips in seconds.

But he can’t talk. All he can do is put one hand above Reno’s shoulder, the other sliding up to Reno’s knee to help hold his hips open, and press forward into him. He feels the soft inner parts of Reno’s arms as he throws them around Rude’s neck, and soon Reno’s vulgarities fade into silence, his mouth slack and his cheeks deeply pink. He’s still not fully in him, but Reno’s gasps are sharp and awed.

Rude pulls out and presses back in in a slow rhythm, letting Reno feel the dragging feeling of his cock almost all the way out and then back, again and again. This way he can just watch Reno’s closed eyes clench and twitch as he runs through a variety of emotions that all amount to ‘oh fuck.’ Reno squeezes down around him half way through a thrust and Rude’s groan is louder than he’d thought.

Reno’s finally able to chuckle out some words: “‘S not so bad.”

Rude’s mouth is the vulgar one now. “You haven’t even taken it all.”

The phrase is worth it as he watches Reno’s eyes snap open. “Seriously?” Rude squeezes his hands around Reno’s hips, his thumbs finding the long vee of his hip muscles, and then he sinks the rest of the way into Reno.

Reno’s voice is choked up. “‘S…not so… Damn…”

Normally, Rude just tells them they don’t have to take it all. But he tests the boundaries a little as he gives him another long, slow thrust out and back in, and Reno looks like he’s going to melt into the bed. He keeps going until Reno’s huffing, “Faster.”

Reno is so relaxed that it’s easy for Rude to shift backwards, pushing himself up onto his knees. He grabs the back of Reno’s legs, holding them tight as he starts thrusting in more quick, shallow bursts. With all the space between them, it’s easy for Reno to reach for his cock — so pink and hard — and stroke himself in time. His blue eyes snap open but they look turquoise in the shifting light. He bites his lip as he gazes up at Rude, and it makes Rude’s hips shudder forward in desire. Reno’s lips upturn in a smirk as he lets go of himself, looping both arms around his legs to hold them open.

Rude has to stop then, let his left hand fall against the bed as he hovers above him. “You look so good,” Rude whispers, his other hand sliding up to the back of Reno’s neck and then to caress his head. “You’re so damn beautiful.” Reno’s smirk melts away with a moan, and then as they kiss, Rude’s thrusts grow quicker.

Rude can last for a long time — stamina is part of the job, after all — but he’s barely holding on. The noises Reno makes, the way his body arches under him, the taste of his tongue: it’s burning him up from the inside. He feels incredible. Reno’s ass is so tight, and every movement makes the arousal grow sharper and needier. Reno’s barely able to make a coherent word, though he does respond to Rude’s own sweet talking with a choked out, “You’re so—thick—ahh, _fuck_.” And those words don’t help Rude’s predicament.

Reno’s hand stutters over his cock. His eyes open and he looks drunk on pleasure. “I’m gonna.” He doesn’t say anything else. Rude bends down enough for their foreheads to touch, his elbows dropping to the mattress, and gives it to him hard and fast. He only hopes that it’s enough, because his balls are so full and the throbbing desire to finish is so strong that he knows it’s going to be blissfully over too soon. But Reno is more than ready to give in, his hand flying over his cock and working it over with a fast, wet slide. The sounds are just as overwhelming as the _feeling_ , and Reno stares up at him in gorgeous, fucked-out surprise. He says Rude’s name, and Rude gasps out Reno’s, and then their mouths are mashed together as Rude lets go. He can feel Reno spasming around his cock, and he presses in all the way to the hilt as he comes and _comes_. He feels Reno splash his release between them, hot and slippery. Rude reels from the physical euphoria, not wanting to pull out. It’s never felt like this. He’s never _looked_ at anyone the way he feels like he looks at Reno.

He pulls back just enough to gaze at him. Reno’s breath is staccato and there’s a stripe of cum on his chest and stiff pink nipple. He opens his eyes, and their looks have a private conversation all their own.

“Are you alright?” Rude asks. His voice is ragged. He has to shift into therapy mode. He doesn’t think he can. He doesn’t even think he can pull out of Reno. Because it’ll be the last time.

Reno hums out a silly little laugh, and hooks one cum-smeared hand on Rude’s arm just to hang on. “Uh huh.”

“I can…”

“Stay,” Reno says, and Rude feels his shoulders soften in shared understanding. Reno wants him like this for a while, and Rude can oblige. He lets Reno bury his face in Rude’s neck, huff his scent, kiss his collarbone. “Just for a minute.”

Rude hums in acknowledgement. He puts his hands around Reno and just holds their sticky bodies together in the warm afterglow.

Their breathing returns to normal, and Reno just lets out a soft laugh. “Is it always like that?”

Rude bites his lip.

It’s _never_ like that.

“It can be whatever you make it,” Rude says, and then is glad Reno’s face is hidden against his skin. He feels Reno’s arms tense up a little in his grasp and know he’s made it a bit too impersonal. He isn’t sure what else to say, and finds that squeezing Reno’s body relaxes him a bit. Then he lets go of him and slowly withdraws; it’s regretful, but he’s eager to get the condom off.

Reno lets him move and get up, his arms dropping to his sides. He looks relaxed. He looks really good in Rude’s bed. Rude takes care of the rubber and then wanders into the attached bathroom to wet a wash cloth.

He slides back into the bed and says nothing, just wipes Reno’s pale skin clean.

“Tired?” Rude asks, instead of _Do you want to stay._

“Mm,” Reno says, and Rude can only wonder what’s going through his mind.

He flips off the lamp, tosses the rag aside, and pulls the blanket down and over them both. Reno presses his back against Rude’s chest, and Rude holds him.

They don’t talk about it. They can’t. But at least in this gentle afterglow, they can pretend they don’t have to think about it, and fall asleep curled around each other.

In the morning, Rude peels himself away from Reno’s warm, sleep-softened body and dresses casually. He leaves Reno in his bed while he puts together a nice breakfast. He’s proud of how good his hollandaise sauce is, and maybe that’ll make up for…

Reno walks into the kitchen in just those jeans. He looks a little cagey, but mostly sleepy.

“Hungry?” Rude asks, instead of _Do you know this is the last time?_

“Mm,” Reno says.

The food is good, but the silence is growing heavy. Reno clears his throat half way into his cup of black coffee. “So the next appointment…”

“A bit shorter than usual,” Rude says. He hasn’t touched Reno all morning. And he won’t. “Mostly signing some release forms. I… Won’t ask you to write a review for my website.” It’s a joke, but it falls flat. “Confirmation that we’ve successfully reached your goals.”

“That’s…” Reno doesn’t look at him, and Rude is grateful. “So that’s just it then?”

Rude hums into his coffee, full of cream. “Mm.”

Reno pushes himself away from the kitchen table. “I’d better get my clothes on and call a cab.”

“I can still pay for it,” Rude says, and Reno finally looks at him then. His eyes are unreadable.

“Nah,” is all he says, and drops his plate by the sink before he disappears up the stairs.

Rude loses his appetite, and throws the rest of his breakfast in the trash.

Reno, almost fully clothed, wanders back down and into the living room to get his shoes and socks from by the couch. When he sits down, he has to stop to pet Walnut, who purrs under his touch.

Then he’s dressed and just the sight of him like this makes Rude want to throw himself into his arms. “You good?”

Reno nods, making his way to the front door. He turns to look back at Rude with that same impossible to understand expression. “Thanks for helping me out,” he says.

Rude doesn’t know what to say, again. Reno’s good at leaving him speechless. He just clears his throat. “You’re welcome,” is all he manages.

Reno’s mouth opens, closes. Opens. Closes. It tips up into a smirk. “See ya round, puss,” he says, and waves.

Walnut curls around Rude’s leg and meows. Then Reno is out the door, and Rude feels like his knees might give out. Instead he just walks stiffly to the living room to sit down and pick up the crime novel he’d planned on reading the night before.

Rude pretends the apprehensive ache in his chest isn’t there. It will pass. It has to.


End file.
